Family Matters
by Witnessed
Summary: Don is ready to be the father he always wanted to be, and has a big favour to ask of Peggy. (PeggyxDon, PeggyxStan, spoilers for the entire series)
1. A request

_**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I have two other fics that I am writing, and I feel dumb for getting myself involved with a third. However, this idea bit me in the ass during the final, and I wanted to write something post-series where Peggy and Don had an interaction after his suicidal phone call. I don't know how often I will be updating this one, but after I am done with 'This Is Not a Love Story' I will be able to focus more attention on it. So read, and if you enjoy it, please review!_

* * *

On November 23rd, 1970 Don Draper walked back into the office of McCann Erikson. Employees stared and whispered as he turned corners, but it didn't bother him. He made a slow but confidant beeline for Jim Hobart's office, and ignored the protests of his secretary as he opened the door. Jim, and a few other men who Don didn't know, looked up in surprise. Jim's face immediately turned dark.

"Draper. I see you've finally come back. Unannounced, just as you left." Don gave short nods to the other men in the room.

"I had some urgent business I needed to take care of." He replied evenly, and his openness and lack of malice took Hobart by surprise. Jim turned to his employees.

"And it appears we have some urgent business to take care of now as well. Gentlemen, I'm sorry, could you leave us alone for a few minutes? We'll have to reschedule the meeting." The others collected their things and walked out, shutting the door behind them. Jim went and sat on the corner of his desk, eyeing the younger man suspiciously.

"You've been gone for over seven months, Don. Not only that, but we just showed up to work to find out that you didn't feel like coming in anymore, and we didn't know if you were coming back." Don nodded.

"I apologise. It was inconsiderate and unprofessional." Jim looked critically, unsure of how to deal with Don's sudden bit of humility.

"We've divided all of your accounts among all the other creative directors." He said finally.

"I understand. I know that you must have gotten along just fine without me." Don replied evenly.

"Then why did you bother coming back?" Don put his hands in his pockets.

"I still have a contract with you, and I didn't want to leave things unfinished. The way I see it, either I can serve the remaining four years and 5 months, if you want me to, or you can buy me out and be done with me. If we go the first route, I will be retiring the minute my contract ends." Silence hung in the air for a few seconds while Jim considered his options.

"Having you back will be more of a disruption than it is worth. You will pay the $100,000 fee for breaking the contract, and we will send you the paperwork to buy you out."

"Great." Don replied. "Let me know when I can come in and sign everything." He turned on his heel and walked out of the office.

* * *

There was a knock on Peggy's door, and she grumbled as she looked at her watch. Her secretary was on one of her usual extended lunches, of course.

"Come in." She called, and her jaw dropped as she saw Don walk in, impeccably dressed as always, although looking a little more tanned than usual.

"Hello Peggy." He smiled and closed the door behind him.

"Don!" She exclaimed, and jumped out of her chair and rushed over to hug him. Surprised, he returned the embrace, giving her a tight squeeze as she hung onto him for dear life. "God damn it Don!" She felt a few tears rush out, and she looked up, bidding them to stop. "Where have you _been_? I have been worried sick about you for the last two weeks! I thought you were going to kill yourself! I was so scared. I thought about you all the time and I'd hoped that you would call again, just so that I would know that you were safe and-"

"Shh Peggy." He shushed, stroking her hair. "I'm here now. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm back now. Everything is OK." Peggy sniffled and broke the embrace, but took both of his hands and squeezed them, softly smiling through her tears.

"I'm just so happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too, Peggy." He smiled reassuringly, and let go of her hands. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch with me. I know you never leave your desk, so I thought it might be nice if you got out and stretched your legs." Peggy nodded, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

"Of course." She went to her desk and retrieved her purse. "Where to?"

"I don't know the best places to eat around here. It's your call." She waved him off.

"Everywhere around here is shit. We'll go to the place with the fewest visible cockroaches."

* * *

"So, they're buying you out?" Peggy asked. Don nodded.

"Yep. I'm retired now."

"Huh. Retired and you don't even have a grey hair yet. Must be nice." She replied teasingly. He smiled and looked down at the table bashfully.

"Actually, my beard has been coming in grey for quite a while now. It's why I never grew a moustache, even when Roger and Ted started."

"That was just a good life decision. Besides, you've never been one to follow the crowd. That's what makes you great." Don felt himself glow a little from her praise, and was amazed at how at home he felt right there and then.

"Where are you staying? Didn't you sell your apartment before you left?"

"Meredith finished off the sale. I'm living at the Roosevelt right now. I have to get apartment hunting soon."

"Well, with all your free time, that shouldn't be a problem." Their attention turned upwards as a slim woman in a uniform approached them.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked.

"Yes. I will have the bacon cheeseburger." Peggy replied, handing her menu off to the blonde.

"And for you, sir?"

"I will have the chicken salad sandwich." He replied. He went to give the menu back, but Peggy leaned over the table and caught his wrist, giving him a warning glance.

"Don..." She looked apologetically at the waitress before returning her attention to him. "You don't want to get anything that isn't cooked around here." Don's eyes widened, and he turned back to the teen.

"I will have the same."

"And an order of fries to go with it." Peggy smiled charmingly to her.

"Sure. Your orders will be right up." Don smiled knowingly at Peggy as the waitress walked away.

"Thanks for saving me." He said affably.

"It's a horrible mistake you only make once." He chuckled, but then his face turned serious.

"Peggy, I have to admit, I didn't just ask you out for lunch to see you."

"Oh." Peggy felt a pit form in her stomach. She instinctively opened her purse to search out her cigarettes and lighter.

"I have a very, very large favour to ask of you." He started, and although she had never seen it before, it looked like Don Draper was nervous. She anxiously lit her cigarette and took in as much nicotine as she could.

"What is it?" She coughed out. He sighed and leaned back in the booth.

"Betty has lung cancer. It is terminal."

"Jesus Don." Peggy's eyes went wide, and she reached out her hand to cover his on the table. "I am so sorry." His green eyes gazed directly at her, and feeling guilty, Peggy stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

"The thing is, she doesn't want me to have the kids when she passes." He paused briefly. "She doesn't want Henry to have them either. She wants to send them off to live with her brother and his wife." Peggy frowned.

"That's odd. Why?" Don leaned forward, and hunched on his elbows.

"She says they need a mother, a female influence. Henry and I aren't enough by ourselves apparently." He looked down and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze again. "I know this is a lot to ask, but I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend." Peggy blinked, and for the second time in the day, her jaw dropped.

"What?"

"I need you to pretend that we're in love, and that we're planning on getting married, and that you really want to be involved in my kid's lives. I need to get Betty's approval to have the kids after she passes." Peggy took her hand off of his, still staring slack-jawed at her former boss.

"Don... how long does this have to go on for? I mean, assuming you do get Betty's seal of approval, and I go around and meet your kids and your family, what happens then? Do we break up right after? 'Sorry, actually being a step-mom is a shitty job and fuck all of you'?" She reached into her purse for a second cigarette, staring at Don defiantly as she lit up.

"Well, the doctors gave her about 7 more months, and I don't know. We'd have to stay together for at least a little while after, maybe another 8 months or so, but we'll have to see how it plays out. We may be able to break out engagement sooner."

"You want me to stick around after she passes? Where am I going to live? Won't it ring alarm bells that you're engaged to a woman you're not even living with?"

"I thought about that. I am going to get an apartment in the city again. It'll be a big one, with more than enough room for all of us. I'll move the kids to a school in New York. You can live there until our fake relationship ends, and when it's over I'll give you the money to buy another place for yourself." Peggy shook her head.

"So you want me to spend over a year of my life playing doting fiancee? I have to put my life on hold for 15 months? I mean, you barely spent any time with your kids for the last decade I've known you. You never talked about them, you never had pictures on your desk. Why the change of heart now? Have you considered that they might be _better off_ with her brother?" Don's face was pained.

"I changed a lot while I was out, Peggy. I realized that I haven't been there for my children, and I want to be. I know I can't start over, but I can start being a better father to them. I'm retiring, I have more than enough money to see them all through college. I can finally be where I'm meant to be."

"Don, I have _a life_. I own an apartment building. I am the landlord for dozens of crackheads, I can't just get up and leave that." She reflected for a moment, and paused. "Well, I mean, I _could_ just get up and leave that. It's really the least of my worries. But I have to lie, and tell my mother and sister that I am engaged to _you_? Remember, they still think you knocked me up. And besides Don," her looked around and lowered her voice. "I gave up my baby. I am not good with kids, and I am not mother material." Don shook his head.

"That isn't true. Look, the reason why I am asking you, and you in particular, is for Sally. I could just pick a woman off the street, romance her, and trick her into marrying me. But Sally is this... she's this strong, hard headed, incredibly intelligent woman. She is going places. She's not going to be a housewife like Betty was. Is." He caught himself as a lump formed in his throat. "She is going to need a lot of encouragement and guidance, and I can't think of a woman I respect more than you. She has a lot to learn, and I think that you would be wonderful for her."

"Don..." She shook her head again and took a long drag. "Things have changed since you left. Stan and I... we're in love. We've been dating the last couple of weeks, which is short, I know, but what we have is so... strong." Don's eyes widened.

"Oh." Peggy nodded and took another drag, ashing her cigarette.

"I can't just run off and give you a year or two of my life. I have responsibilities. I have found the love of my life. And I can't fuck that up now." Don looked crestfallen, and Peggy hated that his time away seemed to have made him so much easier to read.

"I see." Don pursed his lips. "I'm sorry to have bothered you then."

"Here you go." The waitress seemed to appear out of nowhere as she slapped the burgers down on the table. "The fries will right out."

"Actually, could you box these up? I don't think we're hungry anymore."


	2. Decisions

**_Author's Notes:_** _Thank you for your reviews, Scarlett88 and arenee77. I was wondering if anyone else thought of Peggy during that scene! Matt Weiner was talking about how Don had called the 'three most important women in his life' (the idea relayed by Ted many moons ago) and I thought 'Damn, it seems like the perfect set-up!_

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!_

* * *

"I hate working on Coke." Stan admitted, taking a drag of his joint. Peggy cuddled into his side closer, stroking the hair on his chest.

"That seems like it would be amazing. I'm jealous." Peggy replied. Stan shook his head.

"They're such stickler pricks. Everything gets sent back twenty times. The last time it was because they wanted the blue in the advertisement to be yellow tinged instead of orange tinged."

"You don't get to be one of the biggest companies in the world by letting people do whatever the hell they want with your product." Stan squinted at Peggy.

"You're right, you'd love being on the account." Peggy laid her arm across his chest, feeling nervous as she spoke.

"I saw Don today." Stan chuckled.

"I heard rumours he had finally showed up. I heard that he told Hobart to go fuck himself and then threw that cactus that Pete gave you at him." Peggy frowned.

"No, the cactus is safe."

"As safe as it is with Peggy Olson." Stan teased. Peggy gave a small, fake smile and swallowed hard.

"We went out for lunch."

"Oh?" He asked, amused. "Did hell tell you where he had gone?"

"A little bit. He just said that he had been across the country." Her boyfriend frowned, looking down at the top of Peggy's head.

"Pegs, did something... _happen_? You're usually not this clingy. I mean, I like it, but it's kinda weird." She let out the breath that she hadn't known she was holding, and looked down at his right kidney.

"Don asked for a favour."

"Please tell me he asked for money."

"No." Peggy shook her head. "It's... complicated. He said that Betty, his first wife, is dying of cancer, and that when she goes, she won't let him have the kids because they need a mother."

"Shit." Stan said. "That is harsh."

"Yes. Yes it is. Cruel, almost." There was a silence, and Stan simply waited, taking another hit while he waited for Peggy to find the gumption. "He asked me to pretend to be his fiancee so that Betty would let him have the kids." Stan suddenly stopped breathing, and Peggy was too afraid to look up. "Stan?"

"Well, you told him to go fuck himself, right?"

"I... I told him that I would think about it." Stan still wasn't moving, and Peggy took the chance to look up at him. He looked... constipated.

"Look Peggy, I can't really get too angry while I'm smoking. But seriously? How long does he want you to do this for?"

"About 15 months." She replied.

"15 months? Seriously? We've dated for, what, a month, and you're going to run off and get engaged to another man? You have an apartment you are responsible for, and everyone already knows we're dating at McCann, so how is that going to play out?"

"I was thinking that we don't have to tell anyone. It's a lie for Don and his family. He doesn't have any friends from work, so it's not like anyone is going to cross-check my dating life." Stan crooked his head to one side.

"You've been thinking about it? Jesus Christ Peggy, after all that man has done to you, why would you even waste the brain space?"

"You don't understand." She replied evenly.

"Obviously not." He retorted. Peggy returned her gaze to his kidney, and traced small patterns on his side.

"Don has given me everything." She finally said. "When I had my child... well, it wasn't pretty. I didn't even know I was pregnant until I went to the doctor because I was feeling sick, and it turned out I was in labour. I thought I was just getting fat. They put me in a psychiatric holding area for months, and just constantly drugged me up. The only people that visited me were my mother and sister. And then, one day, Don showed up. He said he had been concerned, and my mother had told him I had TB. He still came. And at that point, I didn't know what life would be like when I got out. He had just made me a copywriter, literally the day I went into labour. I didn't think I'd have a job. And he said to me 'You'll be amazed at how much it never happened'. And so I got out and went on with my life." Stan snorted.

"So what I hear is that Don finds this gem of a copywriter, she goes missing for months, and he finally scratches his head and says 'Hey, there's one less set of tits in the office.' He then visits you for five minutes with some Draper-inspired bullshit about how you should ignore everything that isn't work and get back to pumping out ads for him, and suddenly you owe him 15 months of your life?" Peggy felt tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"Stan, it's just so much more complicated than that." She said finally.

"No Peggy, it really isn't." He stated, colour starting to rise in his voice.

"He made me a copywriter, Stan. He held my job for me while I was in a looney bin for four months! Who else would have done that for an unproven copywriter, especially a woman?"

"So he does everything in his power to manipulate you to work for him, and then kicks you every time he's having a bad day, and then asks you to do _this_ because he was sooooo nice to take five minutes out of his day to think of someone else for a change, because he was too goddamn lazy to hire another copywriter? He's a cad, and he'll always be one." In that moment, Peggy made her decision.

"If he hadn't done everything he has done for me, we wouldn't have met. I wouldn't own my apartment building, or be able to help out my mother like I do. I am doing this." She felt Stan's breath catch.

"Peggy..." he trailed off slowly, sounding wounded. She immediately felt bad, but knew she would feel worse if she backed out of her decision.

"It will only be 15 months." She replied softly, kissing his side. "Don will get his kids, I will have paid back my debt, and everything will be even. Plus, he said he would buy me my own apartment after it was over."

"But you already have an entire building." He replied. "We're in it right now." Peggy shrugged.

"I'll make him buy me something else. Maybe he could foot the bill for a long, romantic European vacation?" Stan's body was still tense, and Peggy bolding kissed her way up to his chest, and rolled on top of him, her eyes inviting him to play. "We could spent a month in Italy... drinking the finest wines, staying at the best hotels..." He sadly gazed back at her as he stroked the side of her face, and he knew that he had lost the battle.

"I've always wanted to go to Rome." He said softly.

* * *

That night, Don was running through his options. To be honest, he hadn't considered the possibility of Peggy saying no. He had just felt this gut instinct that she would say yes because _he_ had asked. Now that was gone, and he didn't know what to do. He was tempted to go out, charm some beautiful woman at a bar, and fake being so in love with her that he would propose a few dates in. That left him with a bad taste in his mouth, however. This mystery woman would be around his _children_. He couldn't gamble with some unknown element this time.

The phone rang, and Don checked his watch. 10pm. He hoped it wasn't Roger again.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Don, it's Peggy." Don stiffened and held his breath.

"Yes?" There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"I thought it over. I'll do it." Don was speechless.

"Peggy, I... I don't know what to say."

"Say thank you, Don."

"Isn't that what the money is for?" He heard Peggy sigh in disgust on the other end of the line.

"If you don't say 'thank you' I am out of this right now!" She warned. He smiled and looked at the floor.

"The word isn't big or sincere enough, but thank you, Peggy."

"Now," he heard the sounds of her taking a drag of a cigarette. "You understand I can't promise results? We could go through all of this and Betty could still not give you the kids."

"I know. That could happen. But if this was real, I couldn't find a better mother for my children, and I know that Betty will see that in you as well." Peggy went quiet, and Don let the moment hang in the air. Finally, he said "When do you have an evening free?'"

"Uhhh..." He heard the found of her flipping through her day planner. "This is Tuesday... I'm available Thursday after work. Why?"

"We need to go ring shopping." He replied evenly.

"Oh." Once again she went quiet. "That's... awkward. Can't you just pick something out for me and bring it to me?" Don rolled his eyes.

"Do you know your ring size?" He asked.

"Ummm... a 10?"

"Peggy, that is _my_ ring size. Besides, you should be there to pick it out. You're going to keep it after all this is done, make it something you'd want to buy for yourself. Beside, as a general rule, you want the woman to pick out the piece. Once I bought a wrong necklace for Betty, and she made me sleep on the couch for a week." Peggy snorted.

"OK. Where and when do you want to meet?"

"Tiffany's, at 5:30. Make sure you get off of work on time. We can go out for dinner after and discuss the details of our arrangement." Peggy paused.

"Don... that is going to be expensive. I mean, not 'divorced twice' expensive, but pricey for a 15-month engagement."

"We could go to a department store and pick something out, but the ruse is going to look bad if I'm seen to be cheap towards you. Betty knows quality jewellery, I assure you." Peggy was quiet, and her discomfort was loud in the silence. Don sighed, irritated. "Peggy, the money I spend at Tiffany's is nothing to me. I've spent more on a night out and not noticed it in the morning. I don't need the money, I need _you_ , and I need this to work." He heard her exhale loudly.

"OK. I will see you tomorrow then."

 _ **Preview for next chapter:** Don calls Betty, Peggy goes ring shopping, and Stan isn't happy._


	3. Diamonds are Forever

Don had been awake all night, jotting down ideas and plans. He was anxious but excited at the same. This was possibly the greatest advert he would ever do – convincing Betty that he was ready to raise his own children, that he was in love with Peggy, that everything would be fine. He had finally fallen asleep around 4am and woken up at 8. Patiently, had made himself coffee and fried himself some eggs, bacon and toast, and waited until about 10 to finally dial her number.

"Francis residence." Her voice had it's usual pleasant monotonous tone, but underneath it was a layer of exhaustion and irritation.

"Hello Birdie." He said. She sighed.

"Hello Don. Settling back into the city?" He heard the sound of her taking a drag on the phone, and frowned.

"Bets, don't smoke."

"What difference does it make _now_?" She demanded, and she took another inhale to annoy him. He knew this battle was lost.

"How are the kids?" He asked.

"Like always." She replied curtly.

"Do the boys know that..." A lump rose in his throat, and he couldn't finish his thought. This too annoyed Betty.

"I told you, they won't know until the very end."

"OK." Don could feel Betty tapping her foot impatiently on the other end of the line.

"Is there some reason you called?" She finally asked.

"Well, Betty." He said slowly. "I've met someone." He heard her sigh again.

"Jesus Christ Don. Who is she now? Another secretary?"

"No. Actually, you've met her before. It's Peggy Olson, from the office." There was a moment of silence while Betty racked her mind.

"Wait, that secretary of yours that I met that one time I came to the office? She's still a goddamn secretary, Don." He felt angrier than he should have.

"No, she's not. I made her a copywriter. She has been for almost 10 years. She's incredibly creative, and intelligent, and funny."

"She's certainly outside the parameters you usually go for." Betty replied coolly. Don felt his temper flair.

"I'm sorry that I can't be happy because she doesn't meet your expectations." This was completely off the script Don had created in his mind, but then again Betty had a way of rail roading his entire life when she wanted to. "Just meet her. You'll see. She's wonderful in every way. And she'll be a great role model for Sally." Betty laughed sardonically.

"If I hadn't met her before, I'd assume you just found the nearest woman who would have you as a ploy to get the kids when I die. From what I've seen of her, she's a very interesting choice for you, Don. How long have you two been... doing whatever you've been doing?" Don summoned up his back story, which was based on just enough of the truth as to not be a complete lie. It was easier keeping secrets that way.

"I called her from California a month ago. We talked, and she..." Don swallowed back a knot in his throat. He had planned this, written the conversation down to the finest minutiae, but he hadn't realized how much truth he had put into it. "She told me to come home." He swallowed again, and tried to breath normally. "And then it hit me: she was my home. You don't need me anymore, Sally doesn't want me in her life, but Peggy did. And I realized that she was my home. Everything was always so... uncomplicated with her. We worked together, we did a little drinking together, and that was it. And it was beautiful."

"And you want to ruin that by marrying her?" Betty asked.

"I want more of that in my life. I've made a lot of bad decisions in the past, and she knows them all, but here we are." Silence enveloped them briefly for a second.

"Sally needs you, even if she doesn't want you." She finally said. "You know teenage girls – they hate everyone, including themselves. But she's so much like you. She and William really don't get along." Don chuckled into the receiver.

"That's because she's so much like you." He couldn't see her, but he could imagine Betty smiling.

"Perhaps that's true."

"Look, I just want you to meet Peggy. She's incredible, and I think you'll see that in her too." Betty sighed, and he could hear her smoking in the background. He held his tongue and waited.

"Fine. But don't think this means that I am going to hand the children over to you in a basket." She warned, and then devolved into a violent coughing fit. Don waited it out, clutching the phone as he felt death grip its icy fingers around her.

"I know Birdie. I know."

* * *

Peggy stood outside of Tiffany's, feeling awkward. It wasn't that she hadn't been in nice stores before, but old shame from her past had still made her feel like the broke Catholic from Brooklyn that she had been for so long. Self-consciously she checked every passer-by, hoping that Don could rescue her from herself. Finally she saw his road figure approaching, and she felt oddly comforted as he nodded to her.

"Are you ready?" He asked, staring down at her curiously. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. He pushed open the door, and motioned her in.

"Ladies first."

Peggy really didn't know where to go. There were tables and tables of exquisite jewellery of all types – necklaces and earrings and cufflinks and pins. She felt horribly under dressed for the experience as she saw men in hundred-dollar suits pull out large bills for beautiful women dressed in furs and floor-length coats. She blushed as she felt Don guide her by the waist – he was obviously more familiar with the layout of the store. And she had to admit, there was something arousing and intimate about the feeling of his large hand wrapped around her delicate side. He stopped her in front of a table that was clearly full of engagement rings and glanced at Peggy, not removing his hand. He noticed she was flushed, and frowned.

"Peggy, are you alright?" She nodded, looking at the array in front of her. Every single ring that she had ever seen in an ad seemed to be laid out before her, and she was overwhelmed. She had never really thought about what kind of ring she wanted, and the options seemed never ending.

"I just... don't know where to start." He nodded, and went behind her, enveloping his arms around her waist and putting his chin on her shoulder as they both looked.

"Just... whatever catches your eye." He murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"What are you doing?" She whispered furiously, her cheeks turning red as she kept her gaze firmly on the rings.

"We're a couple, Peggy." He said exasperatedly. "We're going to have to act like it."

"Not in Tiffany's." She hissed back. He sighed and removed himself, and for a moment Peggy felt a sense of loss as his body heat and cologne followed him away.

"What can I help you with today?" A friendly, impeccably dressed older gentleman asked. Don smiled charmingly.

"We're getting engaged, and we're looking for _the_ perfect ring." The gentleman smiled and nodded at both of them.

"A modern couple, I see. It's becoming more common for the woman to pick out her own engagement and wedding rings."

"It's definitely changed from how it was growing up." Don agreed.

"Has anything caught your eye, dear?" He asked her. Peggy nodded slowly, and let her finger hover above a ring with a large stone centered with two smaller diamonds.

"Third from the front." She said, and the salesman took out the tray so she could view it. Don nodded.

"It's pretty. It would be an excellent choice."

"How much is it?" Peggy blurted out. The salesman seemed taken back, and she knew she had committed a faux paux.

"That one is $6,799." He replied. Peggy froze.

"I'll keep looking." The salesman nodded and returned the tray.

"Let me know when you wish to take a look at another ring." He said as he sauntered off to help another doting couple. Don seemed amused.

"I am good for the money, you know."

"I know." Peggy sighed, and she felt embarrassed. "But I've never had a man buy me jewellry." Don's eyes shot up in surprise.

"Never?" He asked. She shook her head.

"I don't really even know what I'm looking at." She confessed. Don watched her carefully.

"What drew you to that one?" She sighed, and looked back at the ring.

"It's silly, because I don't even go to church as much as I should, but I liked the idea of a ring with three stones for the Holy Trinity – father, son and the holy spirit. And I like the idea of three meaning the man, and woman, and God as well." She shook her head. "But really, I don't need three stones. It's just a fancy idea." Don looked at her, a small smile playing about his face. He then waved to the salesman, who bustled over.

"We'll take the ring we were looking at. Also, I saw a pair of earrings – the ones with emeralds and the stone design of peacock around them? Yes, we'll take them as well."

* * *

"Don..." Peggy kept staring at the earrings over dinner, running her fingers around the dozens of stones that were in them. "That wasn't necessary." Don smiled genuinely and sipped at his rye.

"I didn't want you to be able to say that a man had never bought you jewellery before, and a fake engagement ring doesn't count."

"Well, thank you. It is, well, _incredibly_ generous of you." Don looked at her intensely, and Peggy felt her breath catch.

"I talked to Betty about you today." He said.

"Oh." Peggy's stomach dropped. "What did she say?"

"She remembered you from when you were my secretary. She agreed to meet with you." Peggy nodded.

"That's good. I think."

"It's very good." Don's green eyes seemed to grow more intense with every sip of his drink, and Peggy felt like she was being x-rayed. "While I was on the road, I called three people." He said. "I called Sally, I called Betty, and I called you." Peggy was surprised. She had figured that if Don had finally called her, he must have run the gamut of his Rolodex a thousand times over first. "Sally told me not to come home, and that I should convince Betty to hand over the kids to Henry. Betty told me not to bother coming back and see my kids, because that would be too... abnormal." He took another drink, and Peggy felt very naked before him. "I called you, and you were the only one who told me that I could come back. That you _wanted_ me to come back. Everyone else seemed to be happy I was gone." He smirked and looked down suddenly. "Ironically, by the time I called you, I had no way back. I was stranded somewhere in California, and no one there could drive me to civilization for more than a week. Someone wanted me to come back, and I couldn't." Peggy swallowed, feeling emotion come to her eyes as she thought about his call to her, how terrified she was at the thought that she would be the last person Don Draper ever spoke to.

"Don, you're..." she searched for the words as his emerald eyes looked at her curiously. "You're important to me. Very important. And to be honest, I don't like working at McCann without you. I mean, you're hard to work for, you're a jackass, and often moody, and sometimes I get the feeling that you're not even there at all, even when you are physically there, but... I don't like it when you're not around." Don smiled wryly at her, and she knew that he understood what she hadn't said. He reached across the table and put his hand on hers, and squeezed.

"I like being around you too." He took his hand off of hers, and reached into his suit for his cigarettes and lighter. He held out the pack to her, and she withdrew one, and he reached over to light hers before doing the same to his. "Now, we have to discuss the parameters of what is going to happen." Peggy nodded.

"I've asked Stan to take care of the apartment while I am gone, so my responsibilities there are taken care of. Also, I'm not going to tell anyone that I work with, or my family, that we are together. This is a show for _your_ family, and I don't want it to interrupt my actual life more than it needs to."

"We'll need to tell Roger. He still has ties to McCann, and I still see him frequently. But outside of him and Stan, no one needs to know." He agreed.

"Fine. Also, I still need to see Stan. I need at least two nights a week with him, and one day on the weekend." Don raised an eyebrow.

"As in sleeping over?" He asked. Peggy nodded. "Peggy, that is going to look odd."

"This entire thing looks weird, Don." She replied warily. "Besides, the kids won't even know."

"Kids are more perceptive than you give them credit for." Don lit a cigarette, eyeing her critically. "You can have two evenings and a day on the weekend, but only one sleepover a week."

"I don't think you're in any position to be dictating terms." Peggy said curtly. Don cocked his head.

"You may be right, but this needs to be done _well_ , not just hackneyed together. It's going to look suspicious if Henry comes to pick up the kids to take them out, and you're never there."

"It could be the beginning of our failed engagement." Don chuckled and took another drag.

"Alright. After two months, you can have all your sleepovers." He relented.

"Fine. And I am not moving in until Betty passes."

" _You_ don't need to move in until she passes." He agreed, and took a drag. "But _your things_ need to be in the apartment. It needs to look like you live there when the kids come over."

"So what am I supposed to do, drop by your place every morning and get ready for work?" She snapped.

"Have a week of clothes at your apartment, and swap them out on the weekend. It's not that hard."

"Don't be a dick." She muttered sourly. Don took a sip of his drink.

"Have you ever heard the joke about the daughter who asks where babies come from?" Peggy glared dourly at him, but Don continued anyway. "Her mother responds 'Well, honey, mommy and daddy get married, and they go to bed and they hug and kiss, and the daddy puts his penis in the mommy's vagina, and that is how she gets a baby.' The little girls asks 'I saw you putting daddy's penis in your mouth last night. What do you get when you do that?' The mother replies 'Jewelry.'" He grinned mischievously at Peggy, who stared angrily.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded. Don sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Jesus Peggy, it doesn't mean anything. It's just funny."

"Of course it's funny to you." Don glanced up as the waiter came by.

"Excuse me, another glass of wine for the lady. We both need it." The waiter nodded patiently.

"Of course."

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _OK, so I know this didn't have everything my short preview offered in the previous chapter. I really shouldn't offer previews unless I have the next chapter written. But I can promise you this next chapter: Betty and Peggy totally hang out._


	4. Cheese Fondue

"I looovvvveee cheese." Stan declared. Peggy smiled as she added the cheddar to the fondue pot and lit the candle underneath.

"Turn on the news." She called into the living room. She heard Stan get up and turn on the TV, then paddle back to the couch again. The airwaves were filled with more news of Vietnam and crime in the city, and Peggy always felt comforted by the fact that others were having a shittier time of it than her. She continued stirring as the cheese began to melt, and went to the fridge to get the can of Pilsner.

"Pegs – what are these?" Stan asked.

"What are what?" She strolled into the living room, where Stan was holding the pair of peacock-inspired earrings she had received a few days ago. He was looking at them, puzzled.

"You don't wear a lot of jewelry. Why did you pick these up?"

"They were a gift from Don when we went down to get our engagement ring." She replied nonchalantly. Stan turned his gaze from the earrings to her incredulously.

"He bought you an engagement ring and a pair of earrings from Tiffany's?" Peggy knew she was walking into something that she didn't want to, so she tried to veer off-course by shrugging.

"A girl's gotta get _something_ from almost marrying Don." Stan wasn't amused.

"How much did these cost? How much did your fake engagement ring _cost_?" He demanded. Peggy shrugged again.

"I don't know. Why does it matter?"

"It matters, because some fake fiancee is buying you thousands of dollars worth of jewelry at the drop of a hat. It's insulting." He insisted.

"Fine, I'll return them." She turned to go back to the kitchen, and Stan got up and followed her, leaning against the wall and fixing her with a look of unbelievability.

"You don't _return_ things to Tiffany's. I've got sisters, I know all about this shit. These couldn't have been less than $400. Why did he buy you extra jewelry? How much did the engagement ring cost?" Peggy sighed and opened the can of beer, pouring it into her fondue as she stirred.

"I don't know." She lied. "He just laid down some money, and-"

"Of course he did. I bet he just whipped out stacks of thousand dollar bills and you could hear the panties dropping from a mile around." Stan said bitterly.

"I don't care about the earrings, why should you? I said I'll return them, and give the money back to Don, and that is the last I want to hear about it." Peggy snapped, stirring viciously and avoiding looking at her boyfriend.

"Well, return the fucking engagement ring while you are at it. What, does it have 40 diamonds all piled on top of each other, along with a servant to hold up your wrist for the day?"

"Stan!" She whipped around, taking her spatula with her, and sending a spray of melted cheese across her kitchen. "It is a fucking pair of earrings. They're nice. They don't mean anything. And do you know what? Fuck you. I'm not returning them. I am going to keep them, and buy a peacock dress to match. So sit down, shut up, and wait for this goddamn fondue to be ready!" Stan opened his mouth to yell back, but then the phone rang. Irritated, Peggy crossed the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

"Olson residence." She snapped.

"Peggy, it's happening sooner than I thought it would."

"What is happening sooner?" She growled.

"It's Betty. She's in the hospital. She's not coming home again." Don sounded wounded and panicked, and she took a deep breath and tried to shove her irritation to the side.

"I'm sorry. Where is she?" She heard Don take a shuddering breath, and felt her anger melt away for a moment.

"She's out in Ossining. I need you to get ready as soon as possible. I'm going to pick you up, and we're going to drive out there right now."

"Don," she felt Stan's murderous glare, but ignored it. "I don't even have the ring yet. What are we going to do?"

"I am going to pick it up on my way over. It's been sized."

"OK." Don hung up, and Peggy sighed and hung her receiver back on the wall.

"What now?" Stan snapped.

"Betty's in the hospital, dying. We're rushing out to see her." She turned away from Stan and went into her bedroom.

"Jesus Christ Peggy. Is this going to be our life for the next 15 months? Running like puppies when Don says 'fetch'?"

" _You_ don't have to do anything." She yelled irritably, picking out one of her best dresses from her closet..\ "Don needs to get Betty's approval, and if we don't go now, then he's never going to get it, and this will all be for nothing."

"So Don won't buy you any more ridiculously priced gemstones, I've got it." Peggy turned and marched back into the kitchen, and stood a few feet in front of Stan, her hands on her hips.

"If I was looking for a man to buy me 'ridiculously priced gemstones', I wouldn't be dating _you_." She turned back into her bedroom, leaving Stan with furrowed eyebrows and down turned lips.

* * *

The drive to Ossining was filled with Don's nervous tension and angst, and Peggy wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to comfort him, but felt that it would be rebuffed at this point, so she simply sat in the passenger's seat, tracing the band on her engagement ring. Don was smoking anxiously, his cigarette not leaving his lips for longer than it took him to exhale, and soon he was stubbing his filter in the ashtray. He instinctively search for his pack in his jacket pocket, but his hands betrayed him and couldn't seem to find the opening.

"Here." Peggy calmly reached in and took out his cigarette case and lighter. She put a cigarette to her lips and lit it, taking a puff before passing it into Don's right hand.

"Thanks." He muttered absent-mindedly, and took a long drag. "Now, I told her we've been seeing each other since I got back. Make up some bullshit about how you saw a change in me, or you were always secretly in love with me, or something. Make it convincing. Be affectionate. Not too affectionate – she's dying." He stopped his mumbling short and swallowed hard, his eyes staring intently at the road without really seeing it.

"Don, it's going to be OK." She said softly. "We're going to make this work."

"You're going to have to move in as soon as possible." He continued, and Peggy wasn't sure if he had heard her. "I've barely moved in, which is OK. Fill the place with womanly touches, like soap in the bathroom, endless amounts of toilet paper, and potpourri, and artwork of children frolicking in fields. I'm going to have to move Gene and Bobby in soon as well. Sally is away at boarding school most of the time, so I can worry about her things later." He took another drag, and Peggy was a little concerned that he might pass out if he didn't breath. He finally came up for air, and the rest of the trip was a silent drive towards the hospital.

* * *

Don took a deep breath as he stood at the entrance of the ward. He had raced through the countryside, determined to get here as fast as possible, and now that the moment arrived, he wished that he was still in his car, driving into the night until he was too tired to think. He felt Peggy at his side, waiting for him to lead the way, and he suddenly felt stupid and selfish. It seemed to him that he was a salmon trying to run upstream, and the time in he had spent in California was all for naught. He had experienced a sense there of being at one with life, instead of being a forgotten relic who watched it go by. Now he just felt empty and alone again, and wondered how he had once again dragged so many people into his train-wreck of a life. He suddenly felt Peggy slip her small hand into his, and he looked down at her kind face grimly.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"No." He replied. But for a moment, he felt connected, and it gave him the strength to take a step forward, Peggy's soft palm in his right hand, his hat in his left, and cross the threshold into the future. He forced himself to take long, relaxed strides, and he looked around coolly, trying to find the room number that Henry had mentioned on the phone. He finally found it, and his heart lept into his throat. He slowly opened the door, and saw Betty lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed. He guided Peggy to her bedside, and they stood there together, gazing at her for moment. She looked like the antithesis of her former self. She was gaunt, grey and lifeless already, and her thin arms were connected to so many machines that it sickened him.

"Bets?" Don said cautiously. Betty stirred, and she turned her head to open her pale blue eyes.

"Hey." She replied softly, unsmiling. Don almost asked how she was, but second guessed it as gauche and unnecessary. He pulled Peggy a bit closer, moving his arm around her waist and she leaned into him, warm and soft.

"Bets, this is Peggy, my new fiancee."

"Hello Mrs. Francis." She said softly, smiling sadly. "You look lovely." Betty snorted.

"So you're a liar." Peggy shook her head.

"No, you've always just been a beautiful woman, no matter what the circumstances." Betty stared at her for a while, critically eyeing her.

"Henry went to pick up Sally." She said finally. "They and the boys should be here in half an hour." Don nodded.

"How are they treating you?" He asked. Betty shrugged.

"A lot of 'You poor thing' and 'You're so young'." Her lips twisted into a half smile. "It's nice that someone out there thinks I'm still young. Some the nurses let me out for a smoke, some of them forbid it. I'm spending my last hours being bossed around by a bunch of 18 year olds and old maids." She shook her head. "I guess it's OK. I ran out of cigarettes and Henry won't buy me anymore." Peggy roke away from Don and rummaged in her purse.

"Here." She offered her package of Virginia Slims. "I don't know if it's what you usually smoke, but it's what I have on me. Do you have a lighter?" Betty shook her head, and Peggy set both items on her bed. Betty picked them up and examined them for a moment, and then put them in her bedside drawer.

"Don, could you leave us for a moment?" She asked pointedly. A jolt of fear ran through him, but he simply nodded.

"I'll get a coffee." He excused himself, and Peggy was left with the former Mrs. Draper. She had expected to be more intimidated in Betty's presence, but she felt oddly serene. It felt like an honour to be at her bedside in her dying hours, to get to finally have a moment with someone she had known _about_ for a decade, but never truly met.

"You've changed." Betty said softly, but with a hint of approval.

"It would be a little depressing if I hadn't." Peggy replied. Betty nodded.

"Don changes people."

"Well, you have to change if you need to put up with him." Peggy said, and Betty laughed but then dissolved into a fit of bone-rattling coughs. Peggy rushed over to her bedside table and poured a glass of water, and the blonde woman accepted it, taking sputtering sips.

"Thank you." She looked at Peggy piercingly again, and the brunette wondered if that was where Don had learned his soul-searing gaze. "Why are you marrying him?" She asked. Peggy's eyebrows shot up. "I'm dying, I get to ask any inappropriate question I want."

"No, no." Peggy shook her head. "Even if you weren't here, it would be a fair question. I guess, like you said, Don changes people. I used to be a quiet little secretary, and now I'm a copywriter with a big mouth, and that has a lot to do with him. He pushed me and pushed me until I learned to push back. He's challenging, often difficult to get along with, moody, self-absorbed, self-destructive... I don't need to tell you all of this, you know better than I do." Betty smiled kindly and nodded, and Peggy hoped that she was saying the right words. "But he is also incredibly kind and intelligent, and I think that you have to take the good with the bad. His bad parts push me to become a better person, to learn when to stand up for myself. And to be honest, those are a lot of the bad things about me, and I can learn from him what not to do. His good qualities are things I'd like to have more of, both in myself and in my life. And since he's come back from California, they seem to pop out a lot more, and I thought 'Maybe this is the right time.'" Betty reached for the cigarettes and lighter that Peggy had given her.

"What will you do when he cheats on you?" She asked pointedly. She pointed to the door to her room. "Close and lock that. I want to get one in before Henry comes back." Peggy did as she asked and returned to her bedside, hoping that Betty would forget her previous question she she lit her cigarette. She did not.

"Well?"

"Well," Peggy cleared her throat. "No one goes into a marriage with contingency plans. But I guess if that happened, I'd divorce him, take the alimony money to Italy and meet some beautiful Italian man." Betty laughed again.

"I speak Italian, you know."

"No, I didn't." Peggy was genuinely interested. "Where did you learn it? It is such a musical language." Betty smiled sadly.

"I modeled in Italy and picked it up."

"Say something." Peggy requested. "Something romantic." Betty smiled in amusement.

"Sommergimi di carezze fino a farmi affogare." Betty then took a long drag. "Smother me with caresses until I suffocate."

"That's... morbid."

"A boyfriend I used to have there said it to me all the time." The dying woman looked at Peggy again. "I was going to tell you that you don't know him at all, the real Don. But it looks like maybe you do." Peggy wasn't sure what to say, so she kept the silence until Betty spoke again.

"I most concerned about Sally. She's going to graduate in two years, and she is going to be unstoppable." Hrt face was filled with a wistful pride as she flicked the cigarette ashes into her bedside drawer. "I want to make sure that she doesn't wind up like I did. There are so many more options for her now than there were for me growing up. I want her to do whatever she wants to do, and I want people there to support her." She took another drag. "I suppose I wanted to meet you to make sure that you weren't another one of Don's bimbos or easy girls, looking for a rich husband to support her. I can tell that you are different from his usual tastes." Betty shook her head. "He needs to be needed, and to be honest, I'm not sure why he picked you, because I don't think that you really need someone else."

"I think that we all need people. I just tend to get a little too wrapped up in work, and I forget that sometimes." Peggy admitted.

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad. You might be good for him in his old retirement age."

* * *

Don was pacing around, holding his coffee without drinking it, a cigarette in his other hand. He was anxious. He wanted to know what they were walking about. He was sure that she would do fine, but everything seemed so unmanageable. They seemed to be taking a long time. Was Peggy going to come out and get him? Or did she expect him to burst in the door and save her from Betty's questioning? He was about to go and check on them when he saw Henry and Sally marching in, boxes under their arms, with Gene and Bobby trailing behind.

"Welcome back." Don greeted. Sally glared at him as she eyed his cigarette.

"Really Dad?" Don stared back as he put his cigarette out in his coffee, and walked with the family towards Betty's room. Henry went to open the door, but frowned as he found it locked.

"Hello?" He pounded his fist, and a moment later Peggy was at the door, looking apologetic.

"Sorry, Betty just wanted some privacy. You know how it is, with nurses running in and out all the time."

"Who are you?" Sally frowned. Peggy looked a little taken aback, and glanced at Don.

"I'm Peggy, Don's fiancee. You must be Sally." The girl's frown deepened into an angry glare aimed at Don. Henry didn't seem to notice any of the exchange. He rushed to Betty, who, while still looking sickly and pale, was genuinely smiling, and Don saw the beautiful woman he had married in 1955.

"We were just talking about my time in Italy." She said. Henry paused, and sniffed the air.

"Were you smoking in here?" He demanded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Francis." Peggy jumped in. "It's just me. Being trapped in a car with Don for two hours doesn't leave anyone smelling daisy fresh." Henry frowned, and seemed to see her for the first time.

"And who are you?"

"She's Dad's new fiancee." Sally said with disgust.

"Right." He replied, unconcerned. Sally's eyes furrowed again.

"Am I the only one who didn't know about this?" She demanded.

"Sally, now is not the time." Betty said sharply. Sally pursed her lips, and shot Peggy a glare, but kept quiet.

"I brought you some things from home." Henry said, and put his box on a chair. He pulled out a few toiletries, and a small blanket that Don recognized as one that Betty's mother had knit her. It had always been too gaudy for Betty's taste, but she had kept it around for moments where she seemed to be homesick or insecure. Don suddenly felt pangs of sadness in his chest, and felt like he was intruding on a life that was taken from him and where he wasn't wanted. As Henry fussed over his wife, Don made another exit.

* * *

Henry found Don in front of the coke machine, another cup of coffee in his hand that he wasn't drinking. He nodded at the taller man, unsmiling.

"Betty sent me out for a coke." He said, and began plopping his coins into the slot. Don pursed his lips and nodded.

"Look," the grey haired man said as the bottle rolled into the bottom of the machine. "William has refused to take the kids. To be honest, I'm not sure whether I hate the idea of you or him raising the kids more, but here we are."

"That is a glowing endorsement." Don said dryly.

"Don't fuck this up, Don." He said. "The only reason that I'm not taking the kids is because you are retired and can give them more time than I will be able to. Don't ignore them like you have for the last 16 years." Henry bent down to grab the coke, and walked away without a second glance.


	5. A Night in Ossining

_**Author's Note:** Thank you Scarlette88 and Luise! I love your reviews, and thank you for the compliment about my characterization! Mad Men is such a character-driven show that it is an honour to think that I get it right more often than not (hopefully)!_

* * *

Don Draper pulled into a parking lot in Ossining, and Peggy was confused.

"Aren't we heading back?" She asked.

"I need a drink." He replied stoutly, leaving no room for protest as he put the car in first, applied the parking brake and turned off the engine. Peggy sighed as they both got out of the car and headed to the bar. At least it was a Friday, so she wasn't expected at work tomorrow, although she _had_ planned to go in and do a little work for Topaz, who she had been neglecting.

The bar was about half full, which surprised her, but she reflected that Ossining _was_ a family town, and it _was_ 10:30 at night. Don sat at the bar and Peggy followed.

"Scotch on the rocks for me." He said. The bartender looked at Peggy.

"A whiskey sour, please." They sat in silence for a moment, listening to patrons' laughter and snippets of stories about families neither of them had.

"We got the kids." Don spoke up.

"Oh. How do you know?"

"Henry said William refused to take them. Plus, Betty really liked you." He replied, taking out his cigarettes and offering one to her. He lit hers, and then his, and there was another silence filled with Don's thoughts. When his scotch came, Don drank the entire glass in one gulp, and motioned to the bartender to bring him another one.

"Don, slow it down." Peggy commanded. "We still have to get back to New York."

"Yes ma'am." He replied emotionlessly, staring into the shelves of spirits in front of them. Peggy played with her cigarette, trading it between her fingers.

"I don't think Sally likes me." She said finally. Don shrugged.

"I don't think she likes me either."

"I remember being 16. I don't miss it."

"What were you doing at 16? Breaking hearts and raising hell?" He tried to say it in a teasing voice, but he just sounded empty and flat.

"Actually, I was planning on joining a convent." Peggy took a drink, and Don stared at her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Peggy took a drag. "My mom refused to let me, because she wanted grandchildren. But every night I was praying, or doing bible study, or meeting with my priest."

"What changed your mind? You still could have gone when you were 18." Peggy shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked down at the bar.

"The priest was... inappropriate with me. We have late night meetings, and he told me that he loved me, and that I was his access to God, and that the only way to preserve it was if I forswore all other men and joined the convent so that we could live in the love of Christ. I didn't really believe him, but I thought that it was what I wanted at the time, and what God had planned for me. We didn't have sex, but he told me that other acts were alright in the eyes of God. Eventually I told my best friend about it, and it turns out that he had been saying the same things to her. After that, I just stopped going to church except for special occasions."

"Jesus." Don said, his eyes full of a soft pity that somehow only he could pull off without being insulting. "How long did that go on for?"

"We started when I was 14, and I found out when I was 17. My mom was overjoyed when I decided to become a secretary instead." She put on a rough, old mimicking voice. "'You'll find a nice boy and settle down and give me lots of grandchildren.'" She snorted. "So much for that."

"I hate religion." Don declared. "Too much bullshit. Too many men with overblown egos waiting to exploit honest people looking for answers."

"Do you hate God?" He paused and took a drink, looking up at though challenging the heavens.

"If God is such a good guy, why would he let priests like that get away with taking advantage of a 14 year old girl?" He asked.

"Maybe priests are just... human." She replied. "Messed up like the rest of us, looking for things in places that they will never find them. Lost sheep like the flock they tend to." Don shook his head.

"If a priest or minister or whatever touched Sally like that I wouldn't give him the chance to do it to again."

"You can't stay mad forever." Peggy replied softly. "It will destroy you. He wasn't a bad man. I think he was just incredibly lonely, like the rest of us, and instead of turning to God, he looked to others to fill that void. Maybe it isn't through other people that we should seek God."

"You're more forgiving than I am."

"It takes time." She admitted.

"Did you tell anyone?" Peggy shook her head.

"No one would have cared. You know Catholics – the church is infallible."

"So he's still out there, bullshitting other young girls?" He asked incredulously.

"No. He had a heart attack a couple of years later that killed him."

"Good." Don finished the rest of his drink, and made eye contact with the bartender to order his third. "The first time I got with a woman I was twelve. She was in her late twenties." Peggy raised her eyebrows.

"Started the Draper charm that early?" She asked. Don shook his head.

"I told her I didn't want to, but she did anyway. I felt sick after." Peggy frowned sadly.

"I'm sorry. That was a poor joke. What did you do?" He shrugged as his third drink arrived.

"What you did, sans convent. I just kept going." He gave a sudden smirk into his drink. "She gave me money to buy chocolate bars sometime, and that was the only time I felt loved."

"Did she make you have sex with her again?" Don shook his head.

"No. It was only one time. I didn't have sex again until I was 16. It was the daughter of the general store owner. I went in for some flour, and convinced her to go in the back while her father was busy with another customer. Sex never really meant anything to me." He admitted.

"Is there something it _should_ mean?"

"You're asking the wrong person. I haven't figured it all out yet." Peggy put her hand on his back and rubbed slow circles as Don continued drinking.

* * *

"You're going to have to drive." Don mumbled as Peggy held him up. Somehow three drinks had turned into many more, and neither of them were especially coherent. He leaned on Peggy as she walked him to his car, and he fumbled with the keys to open the lock. "You _do_ know how to drive a manual, right?"

"Yes." She sighed, but she wasn't feeling especially competent either. "It's midnight, and we have two hours of driving." Don shook his head.

"Just find the nearest motel. We'll spend the night here." Peggy didn't particularly want to, but she wasn't looking forward to a two hour drive filled with the possibility of a sick Don. She held him into the passenger's seat and took the keys from the driver's side door. Don looked around as she pulled out of the parking lot. "It's weird being a passenger in your own car. I don't think anyone else has driven this."

"Just keep your eyes out for a motel." She said impatiently.

"There should be one two blocks over. Just turn right here." He directed, pointing weakly out the window. "My right, not your right."

"Don, we're facing the same direction. We have _the same_ right."

"Make her a fiancée and she gets all uppity." He mumbled. Peggy ignored him, and quickly they arrived at the promised motel. She helped him out of the car, and they stumbled in to the disapproving look of the motel clerk.

"We need a room for the night." Peggy declared, and caught the clerk checking for the ring on her finger. The portly matron nodded.

"We have one room, with a king. It's $10."

"No, we need a room with two separate beds."

"Honey, don't be weird." Don slurred, and took the money out of his pocket. "Leave your Catholicism behind and join the 20th century." Peggy pursed her lips as Doris handed her the keys.

"Breakfast is at 8, check-out is at 11."

Upon coming into the room, Don immediately stumbled to the bed and plopped down on it, his sprawled frame managing to take up a good portion of the area. Peggy leaned over unsteadily and took off her shoes. It looked like she was sleeping in her bra tonight. What was more, there wasn't a couch, so it looked like she was stuck with a sleeping buddy as well.

"Move over." She grumbled as she pushed Don's limbs away and laid on the left half of the bed. Don groaned and rolled himself over to the other side. He then unsteadily sat up and started taking off his jacket, which he tossed on a nearby chair, which was quickly followed by his dress shirt. He then crossed his arms and put his fingers beneath his under shirt, and began to pull it off.

"Don!" Peggy reprimanded.

"What?" He mumbled through a mouthful of fabric as he rid himself of all his top layers.

"Keep your clothes on!" She hissed. Don turned and looked incredulously.

"I am not sleeping in these. They get wrinkled. And they're uncomfortable."

"If I can sleep in a bra and shape wear, you can sleep in a goddamn shirt!" Don shrugged.

"Suit yourself, but I am sleeping in my briefs. I am paying for this hotel room, you know."

"Why are you always so difficult?" She demanded.

"Why are you always so Catholic?" He retorted.

"Hmph!" Peggy got under the covers, angrily fluffing her pillow before laying her head down. She felt Don's weight lift as he stood to take off his pants, and heard the clink of his belt buckle as he tossed them on his pile of clothes. He got under the covers, and Peggy froze as he put his arm around her waist. "Don!"

"I just wanna cuddle." He mumbled childishly, and put his other arm in the space under her neck. He was warm, like a furnace, and smelt like alcohol, cigarettes, sweat and sadness, and she found she didn't have the heart to reprimand him further. They laid there in the silence, Peggy still feeling frozen and uncomfortable.

"I know it's dumb." Don started softly. "But part of me always felt like I was just biding time until she came back to me. I thought she'd get tired of Henry, and we'd get together again, and be the family we were before." Peggy felt her heart break, and she relaxed slightly and put her arm over his comfortingly.

"I'm sorry Don."

"Yeah. I guess you don't always get what you want." He snorted softly into her hair. "I thought that when I had money, everything would be good. I'd come home to an adoring wife and children, there would be a dog that would jump up and lick my face, and everything would be complete. And then I had that. For a while, I had that. Even the dog. Except I wasn't complete, and Betty wasn't always happy to see me, and I wasn't especially attached to my children. I didn't know how to fix it, so I just fucked it up further."

"Sometimes what we want isn't necessarily what we need." Peggy put her cool hand over top of his and traced small circles around each of his knuckles.

"What do you want?" His question gave Peggy pause, and her immediate thoughts seemed trite and shallow.

"I thought I wanted a career. And I still do – I love what I do. I don't really like McCann, but I know there are other places to work. But everyone keeps telling me there's more to life than work, and I'm scared that there is so much that I am missing, and one day I'll wake up and realize exactly what that is, but it will be too late." She sighed. "Stan wants children. And he should have them. They love him, and he'd be a great father. But I don't know if that is the kind of woman I am. But what kind of woman doesn't want kids? I guess I'd always just _assumed_ that one day it would happen, but what if it does and I regret them? What if it doesn't and I regret _that_?" Don squeezed her lightly.

"Kids aren't right for everyone. And you probably won't know which is the right decision until it happens, one way or another."

"Great." She moaned softly. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"Welcome to adulthood." Don was silent, and a few moments later she heard the sound of him softly snoring. Finally, she relaxed fully into his embrace, and in a few minutes was also soundly asleep.


	6. Moving Day

_**Author's Notes:** Wow, thank you everyone for the kind words! Diavoloduchessa, absolutely! Confession is good for the soul. Arenee77, I agree! I feel like Joan and Peggy were out there, kicking it in their own feminist way, and Betty didn't really have any girlfriends to talk to. They would have made an excellent blonde-brunette-redhead trio. Scarlett88, we both know that, if one the show, Betty had hinted that she wanted to get back together, he would have been on that up until the very end. He wanted her back all the way through the series. Luise, it is definitely one of those shows where at the end you want to go 'What else is there?!' I'm glad so many people have been writing lately!_

 _Anyway, I probably won't be able to devote a lot of time to this fic in the next few weeks, so I don't know when the next update will be. We'll see though! Also, as a disclaimer: I don't have any rights to the book quoted in this chapter. I also don't have any rights to Mad Men. I own nothing._

* * *

Peggy opened the door to her apartment on morning and immediately smelt burnt cheese and marijuana. She sighed as she laid her things at the door, and wandered into the kitchen. Apparently Stan had not blown out the candle, and there was wax all over the counter and blackened dairy in the fondue pot. If it had been any other moment, she would have called him up and cussed him out. However, she knew he had to pick her battles very carefully, so she simply ran the pot under some water and let it soak as she went into her bedroom and changed into a pair of pajamas. She then mentally girded her loins, and went to the phone. She dialed Stan's number, and waited apprehensively as the phone rang.

"Hello?" He answered groggily.

"It's me."

"Hey." He didn't seem angry, although maybe it was just too early in the morning for it. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry Stan. I didn't mean it. I really didn't. I was just frustrated."

"I know Peggy." He said softly.

"Look, I know this is a really rough way to start off our relationship, and I'm sorry. I don't want it to be like this for the next... however long it is." She heard her boyfriend sigh.

"I don't want it to either, Pegs. It's just... Draper is a hard man to compete with."

"You're not competing with him. I've known him for a decade. If anything was going to happen between us, it would have. Being closer to him just makes me glad I'm his fake third wife rather than his real second one." Stan chuckled, and Peggy felt her heart warm. "The good thing now – well, it's not good. But Betty is very close to passing away, so that should take a good 6 months off my sentence with Don. It'll be over more quickly than we know."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"The bad news is that the movers are going to come tomorrow. We need to get things arranged quickly so that when Betty dies Don is ready for the kids. I don't know when you want the movers to come and get your stuff, but it's not a big rush. Don is paying for it."

"I didn't see myself moving in quite so quickly." Stan admitted. "It's nice. It would be nicer if you were there, but I'll take what I can get."

"What can I say, I move fast." Peggy grinned mischievously into the receiver. "I was thinking that around the two month mark, I'd spend less and less time at Don's place, and get myself a lover on the side." She twirled the cord around her fingers flirtatiously.

"Oh? Do you like men with beards?"

"They're the _only_ kind I like."

"I think I might know a guy for you. He's discrete, good with his hands, loves the ladies..."

"Well, I'd love to meet him. I'm holding interviews for the position today, actually. Central Park, 2pm. Tell him to come alone. If all goes well, he will be invited for the second interview immediately after at my apartment." She couldn't see him, but she knew that Stan was smiling his warm, kind grin on the other end of the line.

"I'm imagine he'll he free."

* * *

Don sat in his new apartment on his new furniture and felt... empty. The furniture had been delivered that day, and the walls didn't echo anymore, but it still felt barren. In some way, it comforted him. Devoid of personal touches, of anything that might truly reveal who he was, the apartment was exactly what he was used to. Part of him also feared that it revealed exactly who he was: an empty, barren, soulless man.

The phone rang, and he knew it must be Sally. He had given her his new number at the hospital, and had been waiting for her to call him. He went over to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hello Sally." He leaned against the wall, enjoying the sound of his daughter's voice. "Are you still at home?"

"Yes. And this is where I'm going to live after mom dies." Don blinked, thrown off-guard by her abrasive tone.

"But honey, we've already agreed that you and your brothers will be living with me and Peggy."

"That's what _you_ want. I don't want to live in New York with some weird woman trying to be my mom. I can't believe that you're remarrying _again_ as Betty dies!"

"Sally," he replied lowly, clenching and unclenching his fist nervously. "We don't get to control when these things happen."

"You _never_ seem to control yourself, so I guess it doesn't matter. I'm keeping all my stuff at Henry's. He said that it's alright."

"You know he's not going to have a lot of time for you." Don warned.

"I'm 16, I can take care of myself." She snapped. He sighed, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his head as he crossed his arms.

"O.K. I just want you to be happy. I'll always have a room for you here, for visits or if you change your mind."

"Don't hold your breath." Sally hung up, and Don looked at the phone, sighing heavily as he put the receiver back on the wall.

"Damn it." He muttered.

* * *

"You're bringing _that_ over to Draper's?" Stan asked incredulously as Peggy put her mother's old table cloth into the box.

"Sure. Don said the place needed some 'womanly' things. I'm sure all he has is a bed and a bar. Maybe a TV."

"I don't think I'd want a woman who ate off of that table cloth being around my children. He might break the engagement before you move in." Stan replied, going into Peggy's bedroom.

"What's so bad about it?" She asked confusedly.

"So. Many. Flowers." Peggy rolled her eyes and continued packing up bits of her living room.

"If you're not careful, I'll leave it here."

"In that case, I'm sure he'll love it." Stan emerged into the living room, laying a piece of lingerie against his chest. "I'm sure he'd love this too." The bearded man put on a falsetto and started swaying his hips. "Haaaaaaappy biiiiiirrrrthday to yooooouuuu..." He pointed a finger seductively at Peggy and made a come hither motion. Peggy smiled and crossed the floor, ripping the piece from his hands.

"That stays here."

"Good. I'll need something to answer the door in."

"Stan!" Peggy laughed, and closed the box she was working on, adding it to the small pile.

"Are we about done?" He asked. The short woman surveyed her apartment critically.

"One more box should do it." Stan withdrew a joint from his shirt pocket, and offered it to Peggy.

"One to take us to the finish line?" He suggested. She smiled again and took the joint, and he lit the tip for her. She inhaled deeply and then let the smoke out, coughing lightly. "That's my girl." His arms encircled her, and she looked up, grinning, and met his kiss half way.

* * *

Don opened his door on Sunday afternoon to find Peggy carrying her purse, followed by two movers carrying a few boxes.

"Come in." He invited, and all three of them entered.

"Where'd ya wannit?" The younger man asked. Don motioned to the middle of the living room.

"Just there is fine." The men put down their boxes, and headed out to get the rest.

"I don't have very much." Peggy admitted. "We probably could have driven it over." Don shook his head.

"No one enjoys moving, that's why there is an entire industry trying to stop you from doing it yourself." Peggy looked around the apartment.

"Do you have any cookware?" Don blinked.

"No."

"Bakeware?"

"I don't like cookies."

"Glasses? Mugs? A coffee maker? Plates?" Don gave her a stare.

"We'll go out shopping for all of that later." Peggy glared in return.

"I, unlike some people, have a full-time job. The last thing I want to do is shop for household sundries. I will make you a list, and you will go out shopping."

"Fine. But no complaining if I buy the wrong ones." Peggy smiled.

"You won't hear a peep." She went to one of the boxes and opened it. She grabbed an armful of books, and carried them over to the built-in bookshelf by the TV. Don raised his eyebrows and went over to help.

"I didn't realize you were such an avid reader." He murmured as he examined the titles.

"I don't do it as much as I used to." She admitted. Don shelved a few books, and returned to the box and picked up a thin paperback. He frowned.

"Don't you think you're a bit too old for this?" He asked. Peggy looked up to see him holding _The Last Unicorn_ and smiled as she shook her head.

"I know it looks like a children's book, but it really isn't. In fact, I don't know if children would even enjoy it." Don flipped through its pages until the book seemed to open up at the right spot, and began to read.

" _I know exactly how you feel," Schmendrick said eagerly. The unicorn looked at him out of dark, endless eyes, and he smiled nervously and looked at his hands. "It's a rare man who is taken for what he truly is," he said. "There is much misjudgment in the world. Now I knew you for a unicorn when I first saw you, and I know that I am your friend. Yet you take me for a clown, or a clod, or a betrayer, and so must I be if you see me so. The magic on you is only magic and will vanish as soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes. We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream."_

Don looked up, and saw Peggy busily arranging the titles on the shelves. He closed the book and strode towards the kitchen, where he quickly stored it in a cabinet. Then the two men came with the rest of the boxes, and Don thanked and paid them before they shuffled off.

"Now, where is my bedroom?" Peggy asked. Don crossed the apartment and she followed, and he showed her into the sleeping quarters. She frowned as she looked around. "Why is all of your clothing in the closet? And why isn't the bed made?" The raven haired man stared at her incredulously.

"This is _our_ bedroom."

"Don! What the hell?" She demanded.

"What the hell what?" He shouted back.

"We can't share a bedroom." She announced. He frowned in irritation.

"I don't know how marriage works in Catholicism, but the rest of us sleep in the same bed as our spouse. Besides, it was difficult enough trying to find an apartment with four bedrooms, I wasn't going to buy one with five so that you didn't have to be near me."

"Why does _everything_ come back to me being Catholic?" She snapped, staring him down. "Just because I haven't completely turned my back on everything outside of myself _doesn't_ make me some feeble-minded sheep. Did you ever think that maybe, just _maybe_ , there is one woman out there who _isn't_ dying to share your bed?" Don's eyes widened, and then narrowed again as he took a step towards her.

"Hey, _I_ didn't set this up as some clever ploy so I could hear you complain at every step. Couples share a bed, so deal with it."

"I'm _not_ going to risk _my_ relationship so that _you_ can trick your kids into thinking you're a loving family man." Don snorted.

"What, you think I'm going to rape you while you sleep? Come _on_ Peggy, you're being ridiculous!" The phone rang, and Don shot a glare at her and shook his head as he went to the kitchen to answer it. Peggy followed, determined to pick it up right where they had left off.

"Hello?" Don demanded, almost yanking the cord out of the phone. There was a silence, and Don's shoulders slumped, and all the fire seemed to extinguish from him. "When?" There was more silence, and he nodded. "OK. Let me know." Then he hung up.

"Who was it?" Peggy asked softly, sensing the shift in the mood. He pursed his lips, and his green eyes glistened.

"Henry. She's gone." Peggy gasped, and looked sorrowfully at him.

"Don, I'm so sorry." He nodded and bit his lips.

"She was supposed to have 6 more months. Now..." A sob escaped his throat, and the flood gates seemed to opened. Peggy rushed forward and put her arms around his broad chest, and he hugged her back, clinging to her like a life preserver.

"Shhh..." She shushed as she stroked his hair and down his neck, feeling the brylcreme soft against her hand. He cried harder, clenching his fists in her dress, and her shoulder started to feel damp as he wept through the cloth.

"I loved her." He whispered rough into her ear. "I was a shitty husband, but I loved her." She felt a knot grow in her throat, and her own tears threatened to spill over.

"I know Don. I know."


	7. The Priestess

_**Author's Note:** OK, I lied. This chapter seemed to slip out faster than I thought it would. Diavoloduchessa, I have to admit that I am very impatient, and will mercilessly kill people off to get to where I want to go. Don is going to cry a lot in this fic! Scarlett88 - I think I've been spoiled with all your support! Thank you for always reviewing and writing awesome fics :)_

Don laid in bed on Friday, staring up at the ceiling, an intense sense of shame washing over him. He was _supposed_ to have prepared for Bobby and Gene. They were coming on Sunday. He was supposed to have bought cookware and bakeware and glasses and a coffee machine, and maybe some board games for the kids. Instead, he had been drinking since Peggy had left his apartment last Sunday. Between sips of rye, he had dug up his little black book and called every prostitute he had ever been with, and the last five days had been nothing but a stream of empty encounters which made him feel more disgusting with every passing one. Nothing was done, and the apartment smelt like alcohol, cigarettes and desperation. Peggy was going to arrive soon with the last of her things, and he didn't even have the energy to get out of bed, never mind clean up the place for her arrival. He supposed he had a hang over, but it was a distant second feeling to the emptiness and shame that engulfed him. The last couple of days he hadn't even managed to shave his face in anticipation of his dates' arrivals, and as he ran his hand over his chin, he couldn't even bring himself to care. The liquor was going to run out, and Amber, the one he had seen daily, refused to bring anymore over after their encounter on Thursday, and he couldn't even care about that. He simply stared and drank, and he wondered blankly if he was going to be able to open the door when Peggy arrived.

* * *

Peggy had managed to borrow Jerry's car under the pretence that she and Stan were going on a romantic weekend getaway to Boston. It seemed overkill to hire movers when she had so little, and Anita was happy to have the excuse to spend some family time together with her husband. Stan had helped her move her things into the car, and given her a passionate kiss laden with promise for the next time she saw him. Despite her protestations, she was a little intrigued by the idea of playing the part of wife and mother. She thought of it as a trial run to see if she was up to the task of having the four kids Stan talked about, although she was sure it would be easier being married to Stan than it would be Don.

She parked on the street, and took a box with her as she went up to Don's apartment. When she got into the lobby, she nodded to the doorman.

"I'm here to see Don Draper." The doorman was polite, but his eyebrows went up with a knowing, bored look which made Peggy feel uncomfortable. She got into the elevator, and when she arrived knocked on Don's door. There was no response. She frowned, and tried again. Still nothing.

"Don?" She called. She waited, but still didn't hear any movement from inside. She put down her load, and tried the door handle. The door opened for her, and she stepped in carefully. Her face crinkled as she smelt the strong odor of hard liquor and sweat. She noticed the apartment looked almost exactly the same as she had left it, except there were bottles strew across the furniture and floor, and the carpet didn't look as pristine as it had five days ago.

"Don?" She called out again.

"M'here." She heard his voice mumble, and she felt relief from the tension that she didn't know was building. She crossed the apartment and headed into his – no, _their_ – bedroom.

"Don." She repeated again, biting her lip and frowning as she gazed on her former boss. "You look like shit. This place smells like shit." His glassy eyes stared at her sorrowfully.

"I know." His face was filled with shame and defeat, and Peggy's ire rose as she gave him a pitying glance.

"What have you been _doing_ all week?" She demanded. He smirked sadly.

"Hookers."

"Don," Peggy sighed, and she went and sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hand on his outstretched forearm. He looked at her, and she felt her anger wash away as he gave the most pathetic look she had ever seen in her life. "Are you still drunk?"

"I'm coming out of it. I think." He mumbled. She looked around the bedroom, and thought.

"Look," she said softly. "We still have a lot of work to do before Sunday. You need to get up, have a shower, shave and get ready to go out. We're going to hit a diner. I doubt you've eaten since I last saw you." He looked her up and down simply, and shook his head.

"I don't think I can."

"It doesn't matter if you _can_ , Don. You are going to do it." She replied firmly. "I will push you out of his bed and carry you to the shower if I have to."

"I'm naked under the covers." He cracked a small smile, and looked up at her, eyes shining for approval, like he had made a hilarious joke.

"I don't care." She said simply. When he didn't move, she grabbed the edge of the sheet and unceremoniously threw it off of him. His head jerked up, and he gave a look of shock to the young copywriter. She stared him down, and he slowly realized that she had won this battle.

"I guess I'm getting up."

* * *

Don got into the shower, and felt a jolt as the first cold jet of water hit him. It hurt, but it felt _good_ in a way that he hadn't felt in a while. He leaned against the wall for a second, letting the steady stream purify him and wash the last few days from his skin. As the water warmed up, he put his face into the spray, and unsteadily ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his scalp. For a moment, he felt back on track, almost like he was human again.

* * *

While Don was in the shower, Peggy returned to her car and gathered the rest of her work clothes. She had ignored the doorman as she remarked "That was a short visit" to her, and gave him an angry glance as she came back in with her outfits in tow. She found it strange that a man like Don, who shared so little of his life with anyone, would want to have a doorman constantly monitoring his movements.

She threw her clothes on the couch, and went to the balcony to open the window. Critically she swept her eyes over the apartment and cracked open all the windows she could find, including the ones in the kids' bedrooms. She then went to their bedroom, and stripped the bed of the sheets and bunched them into a ball. She was about to call out to Don, when she heard him yell "Shit!"

"Don?" She hurried into his en suite washroom, and found him with a towel around his waist, frantically splashing cold water on his scruffy face. "What happened?"

"I cut myself shaving." He muttered angrily, grabbing a hand towel and wiping the water off. She watched his unsteady hand reach for his straight razor again, and she shook her head and stepped in.

"Your hand is trembling. Here." She grabbed the blade from his hand and turned him to face her as she eyed his beard. Peggy grabbed the brush for the shaving cream and dipped it in the pot, and carefully applied it to his face. "You DO have some greys coming in here."

"I might have to start dying it."

"Shhh. Stop moving." She commanded, and carefully began to scrap the growth from his chin. Don held very still as she made the first clumsy strokes, stepping on her tip toes to reach his height.

"Have you done this before?" He asked as she ran the blade under the water.

"Lets just say I've never cut anyone shaving before." Her eyes narrowed as she paid close attention to the grooves of his face, and her next strokes were more confidant. Don looked at her, eyes cautious with vulnerability. This, he reflected as he watched her work, was possibly the most intimate thing he had ever done with a woman. Ironically, he had been searching for that illusive feeling in all the wrong places, and now that it was in front of him, he was uneasy and unsure of himself. Who knew how intimate it was to have a woman with a blade at your throat?

* * *

Don and Peggy walked silently down the street to the diner as the sun fell low in the sky, and Don was unsure of what to say. He was afraid he had lost her respect, or whatever there was left of it, and he knew she was irked that he hadn't done what he said he would.

"Peggy," He began as they waited at the counter for their orders. "I'll go out tomorrow and get everything we're missing." She shook her head and looked at him, exasperatedly but with kindness.

"We don't have any more time left, Don. This needs to get done, and I'm not sure that if I leave you to your own devices that it will. I've got all of your bedding in the washing machine, and my pyjamas are here anyway. I'll spend the night and we'll get an early start tomorrow and get your place together." Don felt himself blush with the humiliation that he couldn't be trusted, but he knew that he was in no position to argue with her.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" She shook her head.

"I'm tired, and by the time we get anywhere, the stores will be closing. We'll leave it for tomorrow." She stated. They waited in silence until their orders came, and Don's stomach growled as the smell of hamburgers and bacon suddenly wakened his appetite. Peggy looked at his stomach, and then up at him, questioningly. "When was the last time you ate?" He shrugged.

"I think I've been having liquid meals for a few days." He admitted. The brunette looked at him with a motherly concern, and Don just kept feeling smaller and weaker the longer he spent with her.

* * *

Peggy's pyjamas had kittens strewn across them, and Don thought they were oddly adorable for a thirty-something year old woman. They sat on the couch and watched 'The Seven Year Itch' together, their burgers and fries long ago finished. Don sipped at his coke as he watched Marilyn Monroe flounce across the screen, seducing Tom Ewell with a childish charm. Peggy sighed with envy.

"A woman like that, throwing it all away." She said. Don raised his eyebrow at his companion.

"You think she had it all?"

"Sure. Fame, money, beauty, the admiration of every man in the country." Don shook his head as he took a sip of his coke.

"Not mine." Peggy looked over in surprise.

"You're telling me that if you saw her in a bar, you'd look the other way?"

"No. But as a starlet, she just never held much interest for me. She was too lost, had too many issues that were photographed at every turn. When I see actors on a screen, I want to lose myself in them. I want to know that they live an unimaginably perfect life, that they are better than me, deserving of my admiration. Every time I see her I just feel badly."

"Huh." Peggy wondered out loud. "So which actresses did you like?"

"Irene Dunne." He replied without hesitation. "She filled a lot of my thoughts as a teenage boy. She was always so... perfect. She was married to the same man until he died, Eisenhower made her a delegate to the United Nations. Intelligent, talented, stable, beautiful, faithful. Everything that a man would want in a woman." Peggy nodded, and the movie played on as they continued to sip at their pop.

"Don." She said suddenly. "When you called me from California, what did you mean when you said 'I'm not the man you think I am?'" Don shifted on the couch, looking over at her as an internal debate whispered quietly inside of him.

"Do you really want to know?" Peggy looked at him, blinking naively.

"Of course I do." Don gave her a soul piercing stare, and she suddenly wondered if she was ready for his answer. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, but she could feel a crescendo building in him, and waited patiently for the right moment to come.

"Don Draper isn't my real name." He started. "I took the name of my commanding officer in Korea after he was killed in an accident. It meant I got to go home quicker. I delivered his body – the real Don Draper's- to my family to mourn. Or whatever they did with it." He took a breath. "I've cheated on both my wives. Sally caught me with the neighbour woman once, and I don't think she's forgiven me. I lied to her after, and told her I was 'comforting' the woman. I spent so many nights away from Betty and the children that I'm surprised any of them remember my name. Or at least, my stolen one. My mother was a prostitute, and my father was a drunkard. I grew up poor. Incredibly poor. I killed the American Aviation account with SCDP because they wanted a background check on me, and jeopardized the future of the company and all of its employees so I could keep living my lie. I've slept with prostitutes, I fired Lane Pryce right before he hung himself, I kept a woman locked in a hotel room for days on end, I killed Ted's account with Ocean Spray after promising I wouldn't." Don's mouth felt like a dry waterfall, and the words wouldn't stop, and he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to spew his misdeeds until they ran empty, and all of his shame and guilt was displayed. "I called Betty a whore for cheating on me with Henry, after I had done it to her thousands of times before. I tried to make her feel insane, like she was imagining my infidelity, even though she knew I was out there, making love to other women. One time I got Roger drunk and made him walk up 17 flights of stairs so that he would be sick in front of our clients. I slept with Allison and then gave her a cash Christmas bonus the day after, like she was a whore. I unilaterally killed our account with Jaguar because I couldn't stand the man we were dealing with. I stalked Megan on her soap opera set when I knew she would have a love scene with another character. For one of Sally's birthdays, I left partway through to get a cake, and didn't come back home until midnight. I used to be a car salesman, and I sold a lot of shitty cars for way more than they were worth. I received bonuses from Sterling Cooper, and spent them on mistresses rather than my own family. I fucked up your account with St. Joseph's because I was jealous that you liked Ted more than me. I let Ted go to California because I decided I was bored with Megan and because I was tired of seeing you two together. I fucked up the Hersey's pitch because... I don't even know why I did that." Don's face flushed with emotions he couldn't name, but his soul felt empty, like he had torn his heart out of his chest cavity and was bleeding out. Part of him wished he were, that he had the ultimate catharsis of confession followed by death and the lack of opportunity to ever need confession again. The perfect ending for a man like him.

Peggy's face was blank, as it had been through his entire rant. At some point he had stopped looking at her, and his face was turned to the glow of the TV, eyes unfocused and unseeing. He wished she would stand up and berate him about what a terrible person he was, and how she was ashamed she had ever shared an office building with him. He wanted to be punished for his transgressions, to be validated in his own self-hatred.

Instead, her gaze became tender, and she stroked a fallen piece of hair behind his ear, which quickly flopped back into its untamed place. The back of her hand stroked the side of his face for a brief second, before falling softly to rest on his shoulder. Don flinched, but her gaze was steady and forgiving. "You're OK Don." She said slowly, with a reassuring timber. "You're OK."

Granted his absolution, Don felt himself in limbo, a scary inbetween place where he could rise to heaven or fall back down to hell, and he was unsure of whether he even wanted this chance. He saw a road behind him, paved with sin and misdeed, and a mountain ahead that he didn't think he could climb. He was trapped, and he didn't know what to do. So he raised his hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and started to sob.


	8. Browns and Greys

_**Author's Notes/Shoutouts:** justicegrl, Don is kind of a dick. I made up the thing about the cars, but he was a car salesman in his past, so God only knows :) We are heading into domestic territory now! arenee77, I completely agree with you! I think that when we have spiritual experiences, we quite often still go back to old habits initially, but we do them with more self-awareness and understanding, and we hopefully grow from them instead of repeating them over and over again like before. And yeah - Peggy mother flippin' Olson has that shit down! diavoloduchessa, I'm so happy that it made you feel emotional! I think the good thing about Peggy is that she is empathetic, but can also push you if you need it. Scarlett88, of course Peggy is that cool. We both watched her walk into McCann :) AppleAndLettuce - thank you very much! I'm finding my writing style is a little different for Mad Men, because the main methods of communication are dialogue in which much is left unsaid, and small movements and reactions which don't make for epic, exciting stories necessarily. I'm glad you're enjoying it :)_

 _Also, I totally thought that this was chapter 7. Apparently I've already passed that benchmark! Hell yeah! Also, does anyone know the secret to figuring out line breaks? Sometimes they work for me, but in certain areas they don't seem to want to show up after I save the document. Anyway, hope you enjoy this next chapter._

Don wasn't sure when it had happened. One minute Bobby was as high as his knee, a quiet child who didn't demand much and seemed pleased with the world around him. Now he was taller, a slender gangly child who watched him with dark eyes and a disapproving grimace. He had assumed that raising boys would be much easier, but now he wasn't so sure. Both he and Gene sat in the back of the car, the younger boy excitedly pointing out interesting things he saw along the road. Their belongings had arrived on Sunday, quickly followed by Henry and the boys in the car. Peggy played doting step-mother to a T, and Henry had shot Don a dark glance as he had left. Now, Don was driving them to The Browning School for an admissions interview. With any luck, they would both be back in class by next week. Don was glad. While Betty was sick his heart had ached for his family, and now that he had his boys here he had no idea what to do with them. In a way he was also glad Sally had stayed with Henry. He could see her in the car right now, pointing out his faults as a father, as a human being, teenage outbursts full of truth that no one else had the willingness to say to his face.

"What will they want us to say?" Bobby asked. Don considered the question.

"I don't know. They probably just want to make sure you don't have serious attitude problems. Just be polite."

"What will be on the entrance exam?"

"I don't know. Addition, spelling, the complete history of the Peloponnesian War... something like that." Bobby wrinkled his nose.

"What happened during the Peloponnesian War?"

"A bunch of guys wrestled all naked and oiled up. Don't worry about it. If you fail, there are plenty of other schools that will take my money." Gene looked up cautiously behind Don's shoulder.

"Are we going to have to wrestle naked?" Don smiled into the rear view window.

"No Gene."

* * *

Getting up with Don and the boys had been an odd experience that Monday morning. They had spent the night on separate sides of the bed, carefully minding the invisible centre line that separated them. She had been roused by Don's alarm clock, and had learned that neither of them were early risers by nature. He had repeatedly hit the snooze button until they had both heard the rumblings of Gene and Robert as they trounced around the kitchen looking for breakfast. Only then had Don gotten up, hacked up a lobe in his lung, and grouchily trampled out in his boxers. Peggy had smiled to herself, and gotten up to face the day herself.

When she had finished showering and making herself up, she cheerfully greeted the men who were still crouched over bowls of cereal. Don has raised his eyebrows.

"You're going to be early. It's only 8."

"And you're going to be late for your admissions interview." She had replied happily. Don snorted.

"Men don't take nearly as long as women to get ready. We'll have two more bowls of cereal, jump into our shirts and _still_ be there 15 minutes early." Peggy shrugged with a smile.

"Father knows best." She had shot a sly look at Don, who had rolled his eyes but smiled in return. She had turned on her heel towards the door, but was stopped by her fake fiance.

"Wait, honey." He had come towards her, still lanky and uncoordinated in his morning haze. He had bent down and given her a light kiss on the lips, which had surprised her.

"Don!" She had rebuked him, and immediately felt badly at the curious stares of the boys. "You haven't even brushed your teeth yet." She had added in a softer tone. Don chuckled.

"Goodbye honey." She smiled and waved at the boys.

"Goodbye guys. I'll see you for dinner and you can tell me all about how the admissions interview went." She had then left for the elevator. Her heart was beating faster than it should have, and part of her felt annoyed at Don's touchiness. Another, larger part, had enjoyed the feeling of looking up at him, his shirtless body close as he had swept in to kiss her. She fiddled with her ring in the elevator, looking at the three beautiful stones that caught the bright lights above. She could get used to this.

As she left the apartment and walked towards the subway, she took off her ring and put it in her purse for safe keeping. Part of her wondered if this was why Don had so many affairs. Leading a double life had a certain amount of excitement to it. When she was at work or with Stan she was Peggy Olson, the girl with a boyfriend and endless amounts of freedom. When she was Don, she was Peggy almost-Draper, a respectable step-mother and family woman, with responsibilities and obligations. She could reinvent herself by the hour, and the thought was titillating.

* * *

Don and the boys had arrived at school with not a minute to spare and were met by Headmaster John Grey, a sharp man with a hearty laugh. He had given them a tour of the school to start off with, and then sat the two boys down to do their entrance exam while he had a heart-to-heart with Don.

"Now, Mr. Draper, why do you want to place your boys at Browning?" He asked.

"Well," Don bit his natural instinct to tell him to cut the bullshit and let him write a cheque. Instead he tried to answer like he thought a concerned parent would. "Browning obvious has an incredible reputation, and I want to give my boys the best of the best. I want them to be well-rounded men of society, who give something back rather than take. And I don't think there is any better place to mold them."

"And what school did you attend, Mr. Draper?" John peered over his glasses, and Don became more irked than he had been before.

"I grew up in Pennsylvania, in the country. We were limited in our options." John nodded, and scratched down some notes. Don frowned. "You know, Headmaster Grey, I think that as parents our ultimate desire is to give our children things that we never had growing up. I'm fortunate enough to be able to provide that now." John laughed lightly.

"Don't think that your poor upbringing has any factor to the acceptance of your boys. I have nothing but admiration and respect for those who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Isn't that what our country is all about, Mr. Draper? Men like you?" Don still wore his frown, uncertain if he was subtly being mocked or if John was sincere. "The intake form mentions that their mother has recently passed?" Don nodded, eyes still critically observing the headmaster.

"A week ago yesterday. Very recently."

"It is an interesting choice to move them to a new school during this period."

"Betty and I were divorced. The man she remarried doesn't have time to take care of two boys. I do. That is why they are transferring from Ossining." He replied curtly, taking out his pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind?"

"No, please go ahead Mr. Draper. A parent's attention to their child is just as important, if not more, than the school they attend. Did you remarry?"

"I have a fiancée. She is a wonderful woman. Bobby and Gene love her." Well, it wasn't technically true, but it wasn't false either.

"We tend to think of ourselves as mosaic of various backgrounds, personalities and talents. The pieces don't always get along, but they fit in their own way. What do you think Robert and Eugene would bring to the school?" Don wanted to roll his eyes, but he pressed on with the interview, hoping it would be over soon.

* * *

"Hey baby." Stan came into her office and closed the door behind him. She grinned.

"Hey yourself. How was your Sunday night without me?" He sighed and plopped onto her couch.

"Lonely, horrific. I cried myself to sleep all night thinking about you." Peggy laughed. "How was your first day on the job?"

"Not as bad as I thought it was going to be." She replied, a small grin playing about her face. "I think I might enjoy being a step-mother." Stan raised his eyebrows.

"Well that is a development, Ms. Fence Sitter. Just wait until they grow into teenagers."

"Oh God." Peggy moaned. "Sally's already there."

"You said she wasn't moving in?" Peggy shook her head.

"No, but she'll probably be down some weekends."

"Well, that will be fun. Nothing quite like a teenage girl."

"I know she already hates me." Stan shrugged.

"What don't teenage girls hate? Give her time, she'll warm up to you."

* * *

Peggy arrived back at Don's place at 6pm, carefully putting back on her engagement ring before she was in sight of the building. She entered the apartment to find the boys, still dressed in their interview attire, and Don, as handsome as ever in his suit. Gene had comes crayons and was colouring up a storm, while Bobby had a book out, which he had stopped reading when Peggy entered. Don was smoking and reading his newspaper, and didn't look up upon her entrance.

"Hello." She called out cheerfully.

Hello Ms. Olson." Robert nodded carefully, and was followed up by Eugene's excited "Peggy!" The youngest Draper and her had drawn with crayons and paper for a couple of hours the night before, and he seemed to have been enthralled with her ever since.

"How did it go?" She asked. Don looked up from his paper and raised his eyebrow, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"They're in."

"Awesome! Way to go you guys! Was the test hard?" She asked, making her way to the dinner table. Bobby shrugged.

"It was a lot of easy questions, like 'Which of these words is different from the other' and 'Complete this sequence of numbers'."

"Hey, I probably would have failed that test." Peggy replied, looking proudly at the two of them. "I'm horrible at math."

"Bobby is really good. I believe those were your highest marks last year, right?" Don asked. Bobby shrugged nonchalantly, looking uncomfortable with Don's praise. Sensing this, Peggy changed the topic.

"So, what's for dinner?" She asked. Don looked at her.

"I don't know, what are you making?" Her face dropped, and then she frowned.

"I think that the person who is unemployed and has the most time on their hands should probably be making dinner, honey." She forced a smile laced with warning, and Don looked quite dumbfounded.

"Oh." He folded up the newspaper in front of him, and put out his cigarette. "Well, grilled cheese?"

"And?" Peggy asked expectantly. His face went blank.

"And...?" He waved his hands, looking for a little help. She sighed.

"That's hardly a meal Don. At least add some soup. We should have a few cans of tomato." He shrugged.

"Sure. That sounds great." He got up and went to the kitchen, and Peggy smiled at the boys. Eugene smiled back broadly, where Robert looked back with dark eyes. There was a silence that she wasn't quite sure how to fill, and she was grateful for the sound of Don banging around pots and pans in the background.

"He never cooks, you know." Bobby finally spoke up. Peggy leaned back in her seat, giving him a small smile.

"You're never too old to start." Suddenly, Don yelled "Shit!" and there was a loud clatter. She sighed and got up from her chair. "I should probably supervise this."

"Shit!" Gene screamed enthusiastically.

"Gene, if you ever say that word again, you are grounded until you're twenty!" Don yelled from the kitchen.

* * *

Peggy got undressed in their bathroom, and took off her earrings and war paint before crawling into bed. She could immediately tell something was bothering Don. He laid on his back, arm across his forehead, staring at the ceiling. It was the same pose she had left him in when she went to get changed. Peggy perched on her side of the bed and looked at him curiously.

"How did Browning go?" She asked. He snorted.

"They're a bunch of rich, old money bastards, and now Gene and Bobby are stuck with them." He spat. She frowned.

"Why do you say that?" Don sighed, and his hands started to move animatedly as he spoke about the day.

"The headmaster had the nerve to ask me what school I went to. I grew up in a farm in Pennsylvania, there was no Browning-type shit out in the country. So he gets to judge me for not being of the right 'stock'." Don made little air quotes with his fingers. "I didn't even tell him I didn't finish high school."

"Oh. I didn't know that." She said in wonder, and then she frowned. "How did you know he was judging you for it?"

"Oh, he said the _polite_ things." Don replied, distaste underlying his words. "'Your education doesn't effect their chances at Browning' and 'I admire you for not being obscenely rich' but you know that is a bunch of bullshit."

"Well, they got into the school, didn't they? He didn't lie about that." Don turned his head and looked at her, anger etched into his features.

"Yeah, and now I get to be the poor yokel dad that everyone sneers about behind his back." Peggy's gaze was kind, but concentrated, like she was looking for a piece of him that was missing in his words.

"Did it ever occur to you that the headmaster may have meant what he said? That maybe, not everyone is looking to humiliate you behind your back, but maybe, just maybe, they genuinely respect all that you've done? How far you've come?" Don frowned at her, looking frustrated.

"Whose side are you on, Peggy?"

"I'm on the side of truth. And the truth is, not everyone is out to try to screw you over, or look down on you. Some people think you're pretty remarkable." With that, Peggy crawled under the covers, and turned off her bedside lamp. "Goodnight, Don." The minutes passed, and he saw her breath rise and fall less frequently as the time marched on, and eventually a light snore started. He stared at her, the anger melted from his features, a soft look of curiosity splayed across his face.

 _Maybe._


	9. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

_**Author's Notes:** Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! ElizabethDarcy78, amen! I think they've been through a lot, and I also think that they are their parents' children - somewhat suspicious, somewhat cold people. Diavoloduchessa, ha! It is a word loaded with possibility. justicegrl, there is some Sally coming up in the next couple of chapters. Scarlett88, you know, I went onto the Mad Men wiki looking for Gene's age, and he was born in 1963, which makes him 7 at the end of the series. I don't know much about child development, but I think that the writers really screwed up Gene's timeline. Or maybe most kids are still in high chairs by 7 years? What the hell do I know :)_

"Don." Peggy called from the kitchen where she was scrubbing a particularly hardened spot of melted cheese on the frying pan. He looked up from the TV and grunted back. "You need to start cooking things other than grilled cheese and soup. Bobby and Gene are going to die from scurvy." Don, deciding this was likely a Serious Parenting Conversation, got up and strode towards the kitchen, watching Peggy as she scrubbed the dishes.

"Why don't we just get a nanny?" He asked. Peggy shot him a look.

"You're retired. I thought this was your big opportunity to be the father you want to be?" He shrugged.

"I want to be a father with a nanny."

"What do you feed them during the day?" She asked.

"Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." The brunette looked at him again, taking a moment to stop scrubbing at the cheese.

"Great. So cereal for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly for lunch, and grilled cheese and soup for dinner. Jesus Don." She sighed and returned to her scrubbing, finally getting that blackened spot off of the frying pan. "I am going to make a tuna casserole tonight. I'm going to be out tomorrow, so make sure you guys eat that. I'll make a side dish of some sort of vegetable." Don frowned.

"Where are you going on a Friday night?"

"I have a lot of work to do in the office." She said loudly, for the benefit of any eavesdropping ears. But then her voice turned low and she smiled. "Stan is having his friends over so I can meet them."

"Oh." Don felt his heart squeeze for a moment, and almost argued before remembering that he had given her one night a week with him. This _was_ the agreement. "Well, Sally is coming in by train tomorrow, so you need to be back by ten." Peggy nodded and put the last dish in the drying rack before taking off her gloves.

"I do have a lot of work to do as well." She added, frowning as she reflected on her last few days at work. "They've put me on Coke." Don raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow. That's quite the compliment, Peggy." She frowned and bit her lower lip.

"I know it has to be spectacular, amazing, something that we haven't seen before. But I can't quite seem to crack it."

"Do you want any help with it?" He asked. Peggy smirked.

"So much for your retirement." He gave a small grin.

"I guess I could call myself a freelancer now."

"They don't make very much." She warned.

"I could take payments in tuna casseroles." She laughed, and went to her briefcase in the living room and pulled out a stack of papers. Don watched the gentle sway of her hips, and allowed himself to drink in the sight of her for a brief moment.

"It has to be youthful." She said, settling down on the couch. Don followed her and sat down as she continued rattling off the expectations and the work that had already been done. Unconsciously he laid his arm on the back of the couch behind his fiancée and leaned in. Peggy felt her words catch in her throat at his closeness, at how comfortably and confidently he came into her personal space. She felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and her stomach was flipping in an unsettling way.

"No." Don looked at her rough sketch and shook his head. "You can't make fun of the counterculture. Coke isn't some old man shouting at kids to get off of his lawn. It embraces what makes youth young." Peggy felt dumb as his words brought her back from her brief slight of fancy, and realized that it was probably a good thing she was getting laid tomorrow.

* * *

Don had decided that since the boys were going to be in school starting Monday, he should take this Friday to go out and celebrate with them. The days were long, but somehow it was already December 11th, and Christmas was around the corner. There were presents to buy, and he supposed that he should pick up some decorations, as well as a tree. These were all things Betty would have done, and once they were divorced, he would have gotten his secretary to pick up some gifts and foregone the rest of the festive rituals. Now it looked like he was in charge, and he had to figure it out.

He looked up at the Christmas display in Sears and felt a pang in his heart. The bright colours and gay mannequins made him irrationally angry, and he felt like going into the display and ripping the gaudy sweaters right off of the dummies and burning the set to the ground. No, he reflected. He could pay someone to decorate.

"Daaaaaaddddd." Gene groaned. "I wanna go look at the toys." The raven haired man was snapped out of his reverie, and he looked at his son passively.

"That is where we will go then." He said with more gravity than he meant to. Gene, bubbling with enthusiasm, started running towards the toy section. Bobby seemed to feel the same melancholy as Don, and they both trailed after the youngest boy, casting dour looks at the well-decorated shelves.

"I don't know what to get Sally for Christmas." Bobby confessed.

"I don't know what to get Peggy for Christmas either." Don added unhelpfully. Bobby frowned.

"She's not my mother." Don's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he look a swift but careful side glance of his son.

"No one said she had to be."

"I'm not getting her anything for Christmas." He replied stoutly. Don nodded.

"You don't have to worry about Sally or Peggy or anyone else. I'll do the shopping, and we'll all sign the cards." Bobby shook his head.

"I'm not signing hers." Don frowned and stopped walking as they approached the toy aisle, and he put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, peering young at the young boy.

"Bobby, that is rude." He shrugged away from Don's touch, and stared at a train collection with great conviction.

"She isn't mom, and she never will be." His voice wobbled, and Don knew he was fighting back tears. He sighed, and kneeled down so that he was at the boy's height.

"Bobby, I-"

"I just want mom back. That's all I want for Christmas." Bobby's voice broke as tears started to run down his cheeks, and without look at Don he turned and headed down the next toy isle. Don stood up and looked at Gene, who was happily playing with a G.I. Joe, and then glanced down at the aisle of dolls where Bobby stood, head down and sniffing. He didn't even know where to start.

* * *

"Peggy, this is Louis." Stan introduced the man that had just walked into her apartment. "And this is his girlfriend, Julie."

"How great to finally meet both of you. Stan hasn't stopped talking about your art show!" The couple grinned widely.

"And he hasn't stopped talking about you!" Julie insisted. "You've really captured this one." Peggy laughed easily, and ushered them in through the doorway.

"Drinks and food are in the kitchen, help yourself." Julie and Louis made a beeline for the refreshments, and Peggy looked at the crowd in her apartment.

"Jesus, we have enough people in here to start a riot." She muttered lowly. Stan grinned.

"We artsy type people have wide social circles. Plus, who wouldn't wanna hang out with me?" He took a swig of his beer, while Peggy sipped on hers. The room was starting to get hazy from all the marijuana smoke, and she strode across the room to open a window. Suddenly Bradley, a single friend of Stan's, caught her wrist and drew her in with a friendly smile.

"Peggy, dance with me!" He commanded. She shook her head coquettishly.

"I'm not a very good dancer." She yelled over the music.

"Neither am I!" He assured her, and Peggy laughed and allowed him to draw her onto the makeshift dance floor.

* * *

Don had sent Bobby and Gene to bed an hour ago after they had set up the street, and was sitting, drinking scotch and meditating on the day. He had this odd mixture of boredom and anxiety. He hadn't expected retirement to make him feel that much older, but the hours seemed to drag on and he began to realize that he never really knew what to do with himself, never mind two children. Bobby's outburst at the store had made him realize exactly how impotent he was as a father, and he had suddenly come to the realization that he had given up the one thing he was _good_ at to go and do something he had no aptitude for. He was glad that they were going to be starting school in a few days.

He missed Peggy. Despite the fact that he had never been faithful in his marriages, he was not the type of man that did well alone. He liked having the adult company, enjoyed having someone to help cook and clean, and on a very primal level, he just enjoyed the company of a woman. As much as the domesticated fantasies are usually written off as the musings of young girls and women, as a boy Don had always fantasized what it would be like to have a loving family to come home to every night. To have people who wanted him there, who would miss him when he was gone. Having it scared him, made him want to run away, but he had a hard time living without it. He wished Peggy had been with him in Sears. She probably wouldn't have known what to say, but Don wouldn't have been alone. There was a certain harmony about the nuclear family that he enjoyed being around, but felt unable to tap into. Even after coming back from Big Sur, he had a hard time truly engaging in that feeling of connectedness, of being a part of his surroundings rather than an outsider peaking in.

Inspiration suddenly hit Don, and he grabbed his pen and started scribbling furiously, outlining the hill and the clouds. A girl with her hair in braids on either side of her face took form, as well as a young black man and a Chinese woman in traditional dress. After half an hour, he looked at his sketch and felt a sense of victory. He strode to the kitchen and picked up the phone.

* * *

Peggy was sure the phone had been ringing for quite a while by the time she heard it, and she almost didn't pick up, fearing it was a tenant who was complaining about the noise. But it kept ringing and ringing, until finally Stan shouted out from the kitchen.

"Peggy, answer the damn thing!" So with a heavy sigh, she did.

"Hello, Olson residence."

"Peggy, I've got it." She frowned and pressed the receiver closer to her ear.

"Don?"

"The Coke ad. I've figured it out. You know how your pitch for Burger Chef was all about that sense of family and intimacy that we all crave?"

"Yes. Yes I do." She took a deep drink of her beer and smiled to herself. No one could ever make her forget about her magnificent Burger Chef presentation.

"I came up with something similar for Coke, but completely different." Peggy started laughing.

"What?" Don asked irritably.

"You're calling me at my own house party to talk shop with me?" She asked.

"Peggy, it's brilliant. You _need_ to present this." Don beseeched her. Stan looked over at his girlfriend curiously, and Peggy smiled back, raising her index finger into the universal 'one minute' sign.

"Alright Don. I'm all ears."

"It's going to be a song. A sing along. People of all different nations, singing together in harmony. The collective consciousness of the earth, all singing together, enjoying a nice cold Coke, the drink that transcends culture and language. They're out on some sunny hills, singing together with nature, all connected as one, free from barriers and hate and discrimination."

"That sounds beautiful Don." Peggy said sincerely, resting deeply into her phone.

"It'll be amazing. I've done some drawings, we can go over them on the weekend. McCann will never know what hit them."

"So you're working at McCann through me now?" Peggy teased.

"Between the two of us, you'll be partner by 1972." She laughed and took a swig of beer, and a silence fell on the line. Peggy liked it, her little interlude of calm in the craziness of the apartment. More importantly, she sensed there was more than Don wanted to say, and she knew she needed to create the space for the words to come.

"Bobby..." he finally said. "was unhappy today."

"Oh?"

"He just said that all he wanted for Christmas was his mother. And I didn't know what to say."

"Oh Don." Peggy said sympathetically. "There is nothing you can say. It's going to be a shitty, shitty Christmas for your kids. There's no way around it, you just have to go through it."

"That... isn't what I wanted to hear." Don admitted sullenly.

"It's true though. The Christmas after my dad died was horrible." Peggy traced the lip of her bottle, the sudden influx of memories bringing down her high mood into melancholy territory.

"Shit. I had forgotten."

"It's just the way it is." Peggy suddenly felt Stan tug on her arm, and he pointed to the living room where two of his friends were chain chugging cans of beer to the cheers on the onlookers. "Look, I have to keep the line open in case we need to call an ambulance. I'll see you tomorrow."

"OK Peggy. Goodnight." There was a wistfulness to his voice as the line was cut, and Peggy sighed as she hung up her own receiver.


	10. L'Interdit

**_Author's Notes:_** _Thank you everyone for your continued support! I have no clue how long this fic will be, but I have the entire basic story plotted out, so we'll see what happens. Scarlett88, I kind of feel like I've made Peggy more motherly in this story than she naturally is, but I guess that is good for the kids :) ElizabethDarcy78, oh god yes! I felt so bad for him that time he and Betty went on a field trip and he traded away her lunch. Poor kid! thekerser - what is fan fic without some romantic tension? luise - I hope I don't post forever! I'm horrible at finishing what I start, so my goal is to get both of my Mad Men fan fics completed without losing interest and wandering away. So far, so good!_

Peggy woke the next morning to natural sunlight, and she was puzzled. She had set her alarm the night before, and the party had gone on for so long that she couldn't have awoken before the buzzer went off. She groggily sat up, resting her weight on her elbows, and looked at her clock. The display was blank.

"Shit!" She shouted, and jumped out of bed. "Stan, what time is it?"

"What?" He asked groggily, squinting as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know Pegs." She ran to the light switch and flicked it on and off, and to her dismay the bulbs in the ceiling didn't light up.

"Fuck." She ran to the kitchen and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 9:30. "Damn it Stan, I thought that we flipped the breaker switch. All the electricity should be back." She quickly scurried back into their bedroom and began grabbing last night's clothing. "I'm going to be late!" Stan popped himself up on his elbows, and looked at the ceiling in wonder.

"Huh. I guess that circuit is fried."

"Shit shit shit shit!" She chanted as she quickly dressed herself. "Can you call someone? I have a guy, actually. I'll get you his number later. Shit shit shit."

"Back to Draper's already?" He asked disappointedly as his eyes followed her trek around the room.

"Sally's coming up today." Stan watched her ruefully, and he let her swear as she tried to jab her earrings into pieces of cartilage that hadn't been pierced.

"You know, I would appreciate it if Don didn't call during the 8 hours I get to spend with you in a week."

"We were talking about the Coke ad, he had a great idea." She snapped.

"Great, he can talk to you about it the other 6 days of the week he has you." Stan muttered bitterly.

"I don't have time for this Stan. I'll see you on Monday." She leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before she went flying out the door.

* * *

Don did not look impressed when she finally arrived. He sat on the couch, dressed immaculately as he always was, not a hair out of place, and a hard look on his face.

"Sorry!" Peggy squeaked as she rushed through the door. Not seeing the children around, she muttered "Something went wrong with the electrical. The breaker flipped, and when we flipped it back, the bedroom didn't have any electricity."

"That's unfortunate." Don said, not looking terribly sympathetic. She sighed, and then Sally came out from the bedroom hallway, eyes narrowed.

"Where were _you_?" The blonde demanded pointedly. Peggy plastered a smile on her face.

"I was working late into the night, so I just slept on my couch at work." Sally eyed her critically, and Peggy felt her heart jump into her throat. The likeness to her father's piercing gaze was uncanny.

"Oddly enough, he used to do that a lot too." Sally glanced Don with a harsh look, and Peggy flinched inwardly. Of course. Sally was used to the constant excuses of infidelity. She was beginning to resent how intelligent his children were.

Don sensed the tension as he watched the two of them, and decided to step in. He got up and slung an arm around Peggy's waist, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek as he gave Sally a warning glance. Peggy felt herself blush, and mentally cursed. Apparently getting laid had _not_ solved that particular problem.

"Well, now that Peggy is here, we can go and get our Christmas photo taken." Peggy's eyes widened, and Sally didn't look very enthused about the prospect. "Go get ready." Don instructed. The young woman sighed and turned around, going back into the bedroom hall. Peggy took a quick furtive look, before grabbing Don's hand and taking him into the kitchen.

"Is this a good idea?" She asked lowly.

"We do this every year. I think it's important to keep up the tradition." He replied.

"But I'm not going to be around next year. You'll have that picture forever in your scrapbook, the Christmas where a fake fiancée came and left."

"No one will ever look at them again. They'll hide in some cupboard until Sally is my age, at which point she'll toss them." He replied confidently. Peggy bit her lip and looked up at him, feeling unsure.

"Tell me more about this electrical problem you have." He said, trying to divert the conversation. She shrugged.

"The breaker flipped, so I went and flipped it back, and everything seems to be working except for the bedroom lighting and outlets. Which reminds me, I need to call someone."

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" Don offered. Peggy stared in surprise.

"Really?"

"Sure. I grew up on a farm, so I know the basics. I might be able to at least give you an idea of what is wrong."

"Well, that would be... amazing." Peggy looked up at him, a little bashfully but with a grateful smile. "Thank you Don."

"Don't thank me yet. I might be useless." He warned, but Peggy continued to give him a genuine grin.

"I'd never call you that, Don." They stared at each other, and the moment seemed to have a heaviness to it. Don didn't know why, but he felt himself crossing the short distance between him and the petite brunette. She gaze up at him, almost as if in a trance, her lips slightly open, and Don felt intoxicated.

Then they heard the smash.

* * *

Sally didn't know what she was expecting to find when she went into Don and Peggy's bedroom. She just knew that she would know when she found it, and there _would_ be an _it_. She crept in, listening carefully for the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall, and ventured deeper in as she heard nothing but the faint dulcet tones of conversation coming from the living room. She was disappointed. Nothing stood out to her on the surface. The room was clean and neat, and as she peered into the closet she saw her father's collection of suits lined up nicely, along with Peggy's mishmashed collection of clothing from the last decade. Shoes lined the floor. She carefully poked through some of Peggy's dresses, and found nothing odd, except for the fact that the woman didn't seem to own a pair of pants. She frowned and turned her attention to the bed, which hadn't been made, but otherwise seemed incredibly ordinary.

She then wandered into en suite bathroom, and looked around. Neat and orderly, just like the rest of the bedroom. Sally glanced into the medicine cabinet, and found a straight razor, shaving cream, and a couple of tooth brushes and tooth paste. She remembered when Megan had lived with her father, she had had many tubes and compacts littered around, and found it curious that none of Peggy's make up seemed to be in the washroom. However, she did notice a bottle of perfume on one of the shelves, and reached for it. She gently pressed the top, and with a hiss a whiff of scent came out. It wasn't bad, Sally decided. It was florally, with a hint of woodsy undertone. Feminine, but not offensive. She pushed the aerosol top again, and another spray came out, this time directed at her. It was good, she thought. Very good.

And then suddenly, her hand lost it's grip on the smooth bottle, and it went crashing to the floor. For a moment, she stared down in horror, and then she heard the dreaded footsteps rushing down the hall. Suddenly, Don, Peggy, Bobby and Gene were all standing around, looking at a mortified Sally and a stinking mess of broken glass.

"Sally, why are you in here?" Don demanded. Peggy gasped and stared at the shards on the floor.

"My perfume!" She exclaimed, and looked between Sally and the bottle, horrified. "What were you doing with my perfume?"

"I... I just..." Sally usually had a way with words, but between her humiliation and the crowd, she seemed to lose the power of speech.

"Do you know how much that _cost_?" Peggy cried out, flashing an angry glance at the young woman. "I can't believe this. I don't go into _your_ room and start breaking your things."

"I'm sorry." Sally muttered miserably, looking to her dad for help.

" _Sorry_ doesn't bring back twenty dollars worth of perfume." The brunette fumed, and she grabbed the hand towel by the sink and started picking up the pieces. "And this bathroom is going to smell for _days_. You can't open a window and air this out. I don't even think we can sleep here for the night." Peggy said crossly.

"Peggy, that's enough." Don commanded, and then turned his gaze to Sally. "I don't know why you were in here, but that's enough from you as well. For Christmas, instead of getting you something, your present is going to be replacing her bottle. Now apologise."

"I said I was sorry." Sally muttered, feeling her face grow hot. She tried to get on the floor to help Peggy clean up the shards, but Peggy waved her away without a glance.

"You've done enough in here already." She said sharply. Sally got up and quickly pushed her way through Bobby and Gene, running to her room. Don sighed and looked at the boys.

"Get ready for the Christmas photo you two." Bobby threw a rueful look at Peggy before they both turned around and went to get dressed. Peggy carefully held the biggest shards of glass in her towel, and she gently unloaded them into the wastebasket. Don looked at her angrily.

"Did you really have to be that hard on her?" He demanded. Peggy took a moment and looked at the now empty towel in her hands before sighing.

"No." She admitted. "I just... it's stressful, Don. And I'm not good with kids." There was a heaviness in her words that made Don feel badly for her, and he let go of his own frustration and went over and gave her a quick rub between her shoulders.

"You're not _bad_ with children." He insisted. "It's just complicated for all of us right now."

"I know." She sighed, and felt a sense of guilt wash over her. "I know."


End file.
